Around the trees the barbed wire strings.
Lofty guards in prickly rings.
Juicy fruit of dry land trees
tempt the deer, who jump with ease.
Lofty guards in prickly rings.
Juicy fruit of dry land trees
tempt the deer, who jump with ease.
Farm Girl, Writer Woman |
Around the trees the barbed wire strings.
Lofty guards in prickly rings. Juicy fruit of dry land trees tempt the deer, who jump with ease.
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Over the pond the dragons hover.
Fireless flies in fluorescent cover. Blurry beats of clear glass wings keep the rhythm while mosquito sings. On the grill the rib eyes sizzle.
Smoky beef in an onion frizzle. Great big herds of little steers obliviously graze as dinner nears. Across the pond the ripple ripples.
Circling circles in twos and triples. Quiet echoes of splashy jumps hint at monsters and prompt goose bumps. On the ground the author stays.
Dreaming dreams of younger days. Bigger stacks of smaller bales, scaled with ease. (Today’s try pales.) Through the pasture the cow pies plop.
Well chewed grass in gooey glop. Canine love of horrid dishes spoiled my love of farm dog kisses. Through the sod the tractor rips.
Round and round in criss cross trips. Tires lead, sharp teeth follow, flushing bugs for birds to swallow. Around the field the combines spin.
Grinding beasts in steely skin. Massive tanks of tiny seed build the bread the bakers knead. Over the crest the tractors trail.
Sail-less ships in seas of shale. Racing fleets of windrow herders expose the snakes the black crow murders. Between the toes the cool mud squirts.
Ten pink pigs in drowning dirt. Murky schools of shiny fishes laugh at boys with trophy wishes. |
Chris RegierA collection of photo/rhymes about farming. Archives
December 2015
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