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.
Well chewed grass in gooey glop.
Canine love of horrid dishes
spoiled my love of farm dog kisses.
Farm Girl, Writer Woman |
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.
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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. In the barn the castle rises.
Farm forts built in farm kid sizes. Solid blocks of wispy straws form the steps for farm dog’s paws. Through the air the dust cloud swirls.
Windswept rock in twirling curls. Airborne grains of earth bound stone ride the wind where hawks have flown. Beneath the ground the rainfall falls.
Aqua pools in sunken halls. Summer use of winter showers bathe the birds among the flowers. Along the peaks the storm cloud tumbles.
Ocean mist in fluffy jumbles. Falling sheets of bouncing drops fill the stream the tree frog hops. Across the valley the wheat field grows.
Captured sun in rustling rows. Quilted fields of rumpled squares hide the mouse the coyote scares. |
Chris RegierA collection of photo/rhymes about farming. Archives
December 2015
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