Grit Blogs > Achenback Farm

By Morning Light

By morning's light, a farmer's plight, work before the dawn.

A coffee cup, filled plum up, dew is on the lawn.

A rooster shouts, the dogs they bout, a cat lets out a yawn.

A pair of gloves, an old straw hat, path down by the barn.

The day will start, where last one will end, clock is not needed,

hands left to spin.

The tractor seat's cold, paint no longer bold, tires are worn and thin.

Gone are the days, lost in his ways, fence he forgot to mend.

The engine wakes up, his spirit takes sup, drinking the field's end.

Plow is all bright, dirt clods take flight, face shoots out a grin.

The day is now dawn, when others will wake, gone is the reason,

the jobs they did take.

But the farmer he laughs, his face full of dust,

it's not a job, life's not a bust.

The seeds are so small, yet grow will they all,

golden strands, waves so tall.

The field now bears, the scars of his tread,

the reason he works,

the world needs bread.

Dawn breaks across the farm. A new workday begins.

 

 

 

 

nebraskadave
2/16/2014 8:12:21 AM

John, great poem. It captures the life of the farmer amazingly well. Having experienced all of those things you skillfully placed in the poem jogged many memories of my country living season of life. I am naturally a morning person and usually wake up without assistance before the sun comes up. It's great to be outside in the cool of the summer morning watching the world come to life, don't you think? After being cooped up all Winter my desire is to be outside watching the sun rise with Folger's in my cup. Spring is my favorite season. Have a great Morning Light day.