Working the Field

Trying to raise a living

from this land.

Looking to the horizon,

and praying

that the rain comes,

but only just enough

to let the fields

grow.

 

This land,

is a God forsaken dust bowl,

whipped by the wind,

scourged by the Sun.

This past two years,

the rains came,

and turned everything to mud.

 

We fight with thieves,

and politicians,

bankers, cowards,

and the rest.

The Sun comes up,

and we start another day

hoping we can keep

the place we lay our heads.

 

The days run away with us,

and soon,

the summer will be gone,

and all our dreams

follow close behind.

 

The seasons change,

and we get by

day to day,

but I notice

that there’s fewer

of our kind.

 

Keep watching the sky.

The horizon is the only thing

that’s never lied.

They Sun comes up there,

and that’s where it shall return.

Every single day,

we earn.

 

 

HG – 2020

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