My Grandfather Was A Farmer

I was still a little girl
When my grandfather taught me
How to care and till our land
To produce the vital things
That nourish life.

How wonderful to see
From sunrise to sunset
Large tracts of brown
Covered with gold and green.

Sometimes I played with the soil
Fiddled and molded
The way a craftsman
Worked on the clay.

We planted seeds in rich soil
But sometimes the wind and rain
Played with them
Some shoot up wild
Others have grown healthy.

My grandfather earnestly
Transferred wild ones
To more suitable beds
Attached rods on them
And mixed with the good ones.

How amazing to take
A glimpse everyday
How the wild ones continued to grow
As straight as the rod
And sturdy as the healthy ones
Some have grown even better.

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