Author Information
GENTLEMAN FARMER
Folder:
JOURNAL #9 the dark soil on his work roughened hands
to me represents what he has sorely achieved
inner peace with profitable produce and a silent sense
of oneness with the planted earth that can not quite be
believed
what is too easily lost, this man taught me can not always
be soon retrieved
but for the gentle love of a smoke gray horse named
Storm, the boy in the man standing before me
dropped his guard as he grieved
he is as simple and beautiful to me as an uncomplicated
evening's rural sunset
always there in the background with a strong shoulder to give
and somehow yet
he knows when tears are just tears and August showers storm not wet
dry, wind blown summer seasons on the farm's grass sloped planes
he says are as good as any man can hope to get
he is all too content to not soon see any nearby big cities so overrun
with poverty and crime
he is standing solid proof that not all men are just small borrowers of time
he knows his whole world is a little too small for me
and that one day my time will come to leave
but each day we share he says is a gift
even though the earliest dawn knows no such thing as reprieve..............
(written March 1, 1993 am)
