They came today, with their combines.
They worked our family farm.
I watched them cross our field.
And I remembered…
My Father drove the combine.
My Brother and I brought him empty gravity wagons to fill.
I spent timeless hours watching him cross our field,
Reaping what we sowed.
The accomplishment we felt.
Harvest is what it was all about.
This is what we worked so hard for…
I look out the window and see a lonely field,
Worked by another.
I see all the new houses on the surrounding fields we worked.
The barn that served my Grandfather,Father,Siblings and I
Has now been torn down by time.
It couldn’t weather all the storms.
Time has moved on…
As I hear the combines roll off in the distance,
I look out my window and see the sun has fallen below the horizon.
The moonlight shines coldly on the empty field.
The air feels like winter will arrive early this year…
On what was our Family farm.
In remembrance of the Wagner family farm~ by Michelle Wagner
A somber narrative written by my wife that captures the feeling of what it is to witness the passing of an era in farming.