On the Farm

Growing up on a small farm didn't always offer the glitz of city life, but I wouldn't have traded it for anything.


          The path started in a mowed field,
            and it was clear except for the middle
              where no steps had trod down the taller grasses                           
          It was easy enough to follow to get to
            the garden and the two plum trees.
               Hours were spent planting,
          weeding, and eventually harvesting.
            The hot sun parched our lips
               and  throat making the
          appearance of mother with her
            bucket of iced-cold lemonade
              a very welcomed sight.
          Late afternoon brought a time
            for fishing and swishing
               in  the deeper part of the brook
          that bordered our land on the west.
             Tall pines, firs, and spruce kept guard
               of our secret places to find
          the biggest trout.  A blast from
            a shrill whistle called us home
              for evening chores, supper,
           and an early bedtime
            that prepared us for
               the same routine tomorrow.