On the farm in late September
ducks are gliding ‘cross the pond
as bullfrogs rehearse their baritone
‘midst the lilies, reeds and frond,
in the barn hens hold a caucus,
gossip loudly ‘bout the stock
or the sunrise cry that cackles
from the beak of anxious cock,
from the mud out in the pigsty
comes a rooting of old hogs
joined in nasal dissertation
on the crooning of the frogs,
cows are lowing, geese are laying,
horses prancing, cats at play,
pigeons hide in silo rafters
from the lazy, endless day,
‘round the barn swift swallows singing lead a chorus while in flight,
wide-eyed owls take a-hooting
in the cupolas at night,
fragrant lofts above the stable
seem to bulge with hay and straw,
on the porch young children listen
to cold watermelon thaw,
sun sets low across the hilltops,
pastel colors nest in trees,
golden leaves begin to tremble
in first evening’s gentle breeze,
wooden rockers squeaking slowly,
grandpa puffs on burnt cob pipe,
pumpkins, squash and thoughts of harvest,
tasseled corn stands tall and ripe,
by the pump house cattle grazing
as a grey mare drinks her fill,
through the window kittens tumble
on their trek across its sill,
flies yet flirting in the meadows,
bees a-flurry by the hive,
golden honey in their combs prove
still the world remains alive,
stilted mantis watches crickets
as they rub their legs in song,
precious days of peaceful dreaming,
evening shadows growing long,
sunset plays upon the red bricks
of an ancient weathered house,
in black belfry basks the brown bat,
in cool cellar scurries mouse,
and in every nook and cranny,
every spacious, friendly room,
from where mother does her sewing
to where grandma slides her broom,
from the kitchen scents of cooking
filled with cul’nary delight,
to warm feather-quilted bedrooms
where they snuggle safe each night,
from soft glow around the fireplace,
crackling sparks of burning log,
‘cross the lawns that stretch forever,
choir of crickets, flies and frog,
rests a quiet omnipresence
lending comfort to them all,
reverent life of contemplation;
slowly summer turns to fall,
all this life is intertwining
and each creature blends in part
with each tree, each vine and flower,
every living thing takes heart,
all the cows, cats, birds, dogs, horses
are at one with earth and sky,
every pot and pan and faded jean,
fresh sliced piece of apple pie
mellow into one another
to create an atmosphere
of serenity, sincerity,
a harmony that all hold dear,
if anywhere balance exists
between the wilderness and man
it’s here among the working stock
on rural farming land,
in country free, in unity,
as man and nature strive,
together, flows the blood and breath
of everything alive



Joined January 2009

  • Artist
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