The Land


It’s time for Friday Flash 55 again.  Can’t believe the week has flown by so quickly.  Be sure to visit G-Man and all the other micro-fiction pieces.
cottonwood tree



soil conservation
common sense
to protect commodities
a capital plan
for greater yield

that’s a good thing
to save the soil
yet to this one
the land is dead
an object to possess

to me the land lives
a patient lover waiting
for a gentle caress
to coax a blissful sigh
as her colors climax

Pondering Fall

Walking along the trail

pondering those who walked before,

awed at the beauty of the trees,

the sound of a woodpecker,

nature’s palate of colors spread

across her vast canvas.

Were they simply surviving

too busy to notice?

Squirrel scurrying across the trail

makes me jump;

my ancestors would have

brought it home as dinner.

It’s time for G-Man’s Friday Flash 55.  Write a story in exactly 55 words, tell Mr. Know-It-All, and visit others.


The challenge at Real Toads today is to write a poem based on the modern mechanical harvest.  This is just right up my alley because my cornfield was just harvested last week.

Harvest used to be her favorite time.

Dry cornstalks rustling in the wind,

The promise of bills being payed.

When it was over for the year

and the last of the crops were sold,

it was a time to slow down and enjoy

the short days and long nights

at home with her husband.

Now as her son worked to

ready the combine the fear returned.

The memory of lights sitting

still for too long and

no answer on the cell phone,

the long drive in the pickup

to find the combine running

and seeing him bloody and

mangled by the massive machine.

Now harvest meant death and fear,

yet this was her way of life,

and she couldn’t leave the farm.

She kissed her boy and told

him to be safe and watched

him walk to the barn

to begin this year’s harvest.