A Winter's Rest


John SalesThe air is crisp, the farm is silent. Snow on the fence, a frayed coat's eyelet. The ground now sits, resting from toil. Eager for seeds, asleep is the soil. The barn doors hinge, all tightened with rust. Will loosen once more, with coming spring's thrust. A time for pause, a season of trust. For warmth will return, flower buds to bust. It's winter on our farm, a time of long yarn. Of seasons' past, our pantry's charm. So we will yearn, for thy return. Hope for next season, a winter's rest earned. Our Great Pyrenees stands silently against the winters landscape. Always on guard.

Our Great Pyrenees stands silently against the winter's landscape. Always on guard. 

2/9/2014 7:05:24 AM

John, I applaud you for taking a much more difficult path in life. Several acres of organic garden is a daunting task for sure. So many folks would indeed consider your life style a step backward. Very nice piece of poetry in this post. Nature's beauty has a way of bringing out talents we would have never discovered in the cubicle world of today's culture. Quite frankly, I believe our bodies were designed to work hard physically and go to bed tired not sit in front of a computer screen all day and go to bed stressed out. ***** I'm looking forward to reading more about your organic growing and selling in future posts. ***** Have a great day on the homestead.

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