The Farmer


The Farmer

A Poetry Showcase Award submission


The Farmer


It was the earth I fell in love with,

I swear it was.

It was the feel of the dirt clods crumbling

In my soft palms, the smell

Of the hay and the sage and strawberry plants,

The sun glinting through the ocean haze, the fields

Rolling past like water running down a hill,

All glistening with wheat and grapevines,

It was the way the dust coated my jeans.

The earth is more fertile than the city,

And I’d fallen in love before.

There’s something about it that feeds

Even when it’s not eaten,

It’s the way the sun shines, angles off the cap

That protects your face from the harsh rays,

It’s the remedy for the lonely evenings with

Nothing but the radio playing love songs.

I don’t know anything about him,

Except that he knows the earth, and

Wears a cap to keep the sun off his face, and His jeans

Are dusted like mine. He shows the children

Where the best strawberries grow and how

To pick them, to lift under the belly and

Gently remove the stem, to eat it right away.


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