The Farmer's Fortitude

Might I suggest a way

To contemplate the past

Not to stamp it out 

Or to make it last

But to embrace it with

The farmer's fortitude.

As the rains ravage on

For days and days until

All that sprouted delight

Were uprooted and gone

Roots and leaves no more

Everything strewn about.

The son of the land does

Feel the pain and loss

But sit and cry he knows

Along with being sloth

Will surely bring the foe

A demon cloaked in dark.

No matter what they say

About these times in grey

To work he goes in time

With his axe and sweat

Scent of thyme in wind

Hopefulness abreast.

As the decay goes in mud

It leaves behind its trace

Red and brown in colour

Lush in flowing veins

All for a man to see

Life's possibilities.

So out he goes and strews

Future greens for bloom

Shapes and sizes changed

Of fields and paths archaic

For experiences bring

New ways to see things.

And in this land he makes

Not what he used to till

And went home and ate

But all of this and more

In a manner that speaks 

Of a man who grew wings.