And Here’s Another Random Poem.

Grass is a constant when you have livestock. there’s always either too much or not enough of it. Recently, thoughts of grass and hay became a poem.

Farm Grass

Pasture.

Spread thin over damp Autumn canvas

Like emerald velvet.

Winter.

Huddled, hugging frozen soil.

Moist stalks. Sparse grey light.

Spring.

Stretching.

Olive arms bend to wind’s will,

Taller, taller, fast as blinking.

Camouflage for knees, hooves, tail tips.

Summer seed.

Cut down. Prone. Slain victims.

Fades. Dries. Golden stems.

Bashed. Raked. Mounds in rows.

Sucked through steel.

Spat out. Strung in.

Lines like soldiers.

Survivors ,

squat, faded,

burnt to dust.


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