On this first cold wintery day I will share my latest attempt at poetry.
He Didn’t Want to Leave His Farm
He didn’t want to leave his farm.
He found beauty in his barbed wire
fences stretched and stapled to posts
set so straight and true. In his herd
of cattle grazing on belly-
deep grass and nursing healthy calves.
In rows of corn that reached knee-high
by the Fourth of July and grew
to towering heights. In new crops
of golden wheat he scooped and weighed
with double-cupped hands. In the shade
of trees he’d planted and now could
sit under. In gentle breezes
while watching his wife brush her hair
from her face while kneeling to clip
flowers to place on their table.
Most of all he wanted to stay
for his kids who still called this home
and came with their kids to form their
own thoughts of why this life held great
bounty for Grandpa and Grandma.
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