A farmer's only wish.
His crimson tractor blazes through
These fields: a wisp, a wind, a wildfire.
Its rolling teeth grind the
Dirt into insignificance.
He reluctantly sits atop the monstrosity
Attempting to master the instrument, but
He is yoked to these seats, and his labor
Refuses to compromise or negotiate.
Thus he carries his wearied
Sleep-deprived body toward the stables, food
Lacking, the bliss of peaceful rest
Absent, a sense of sanity nowhere.
For these asinine procedures he
Toils one through nine, nine to
One, desiring some time for leisure,
Sick of active participation.
But that is his only option – an
Eternity compacted into a minute,
New tasks supplanting old tasks, barely
Able to sustain a harvest.
He wants to don a straw hat.
Wants to recline beneath the wheat,
To cherish a moment of quiescence,
Paper and pen in hand… steadily churning out
Beautiful poetry.
These fields: a wisp, a wind, a wildfire.
Its rolling teeth grind the
Dirt into insignificance.
He reluctantly sits atop the monstrosity
Attempting to master the instrument, but
He is yoked to these seats, and his labor
Refuses to compromise or negotiate.
Thus he carries his wearied
Sleep-deprived body toward the stables, food
Lacking, the bliss of peaceful rest
Absent, a sense of sanity nowhere.
For these asinine procedures he
Toils one through nine, nine to
One, desiring some time for leisure,
Sick of active participation.
But that is his only option – an
Eternity compacted into a minute,
New tasks supplanting old tasks, barely
Able to sustain a harvest.
He wants to don a straw hat.
Wants to recline beneath the wheat,
To cherish a moment of quiescence,
Paper and pen in hand… steadily churning out
Beautiful poetry.