The Dance of My Farmer

I hear him rising with the sun

(Most mornings long before)

To a song and dance of rituals

That send him out the door.

There’s a tempo and a rhythm

To the way he spends his days.

While the weather keeps him on his toes,

His step picks up the pace.

Spring writes poetry in motion as

His tractor makes each round.

He sews a quilted landscape

Tucking seeds into the ground.

He admires each and every row -

Shows concern for every seed.

He has hopes to grow a bumper crop

But nothing’s guaranteed.

His days are at the mercy

Of the choices made by God,

Yet he keeps a faithful outlook

Though at times it must be hard.

Soon autumn paints a picture

On his canvas made of dirt

And the sunset adds a glaze

As he harvests his art work.

Each night his eyes grow heavy

Like the setting of the sun

And he longs to waltz to dreamland

When his busy day is done.

I’m enamored of his passion.

It’s romantic - like a poem.

And he gently takes my hand

When he finally dances home.


© [Kendra Kleve] [2015] [All Rights Reserved].