The planting has to be precisely right,
the ground soil touched by heat from sunshine’s kiss,
the moisture content dare not be too light.
A studied art is true, it’s not a guess.

The tilling that is labored by man’s sweat,
the added nutrients to dirt to mend,
new seed that’s bought through borrowed future debt,
back-breaking labor, man will have to tend.

But, even with those strict conditions filled,
the storms and plagues will come to take their toll.
So many acres that were finely tilled,
come shy of reaching monetary goals.

The farmer still returns to toil each year
and plant through faith despite his silent fear.



© 2019, Barb Henson. All rights reserved.

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