Tuesday, November 10, 2015

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].

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