The Farmer's Wife

 

Such a thick-skinned orange

it was unreal -

So small a fruit

with such a peel.

 

Hanging so quiet

bright orange and round -

till season's end

when it hit the ground.

 

It rolled down hill

to a small shady spot

where others had -

though some had not.

 

It bounced off rocks

as it did go -

it rolled up to the Farmer's toe.

 

Such a thick-skinned orange

at last report

bumped into vodka -

and became a snort.

 

The Farmer's Wife

 

The Farmer's Wife

had made a pie -

gathered the cows -

and milked em' dry.

 

The Farmer's Wife

with her unshaved legs -

had rousted the Chickens

and collected the eggs.

 

The Farmer's Wife

out in the dirt -

had sewn a tear

in the scarecrow's shirt.

 

She had mended the fence

before 'twas noon -

and had harvested crops -

by the middle of June.

 

She stirred and she cooked

by the wood-burning stove -

for the Farmer who worked

in the old orange grove.

 

The Farmer's Neighbor

had a bull named  Rose -

horns of steel,

and a ring in his nose.

 

An ornery cuss

known far and wide -

had the farmer's neighbor's

brand on its hide.

 

He had busted the fence

and kicked up the dirt -

he tore a big hole

in the scarecrow's shirt.

 

He'd have done a lot more

before he was through -

but the farmer's wife

turned him to Stew.

 

He's now just a legend

around the wood-burning stove -

and a faint memory

in the old orange grove.

 

The Farmer and the Cell Phone

 

He rode upon the tractor

a little farmer's song he'd sing -

not much of a distracter -

came this tiny little ring,

 

She was calling from the farmhouse

to say the stew was in the pot -

the farmer's neighbor in the field

but the neighbor's bull was not.

 

Rows of lettuce to his right

beets and chives were tended -

chickens cooped, cows were milked

the fences all were mended.

 

His tractor glistened in the Sun

as clods of dirt were flung -

he plowed and drove the tidy rows

while his little cell phone rung.

 

Tomorrow he would paint the barn

a job he had put off -

He'd bail the hay, haul it in

and toss it in the loft,

 

Wednesday he might go to town

look up that city jerk -

who sold his wife these little phones

that never seem to work,

 

but for now he would be turning back

park the tractor by the stalls -

as the farmer and his cell phone did

whenever Nature called.

 

The Story of Thorn

 

Old Thorn he was the farmer's dog

They were pals, why don't ya know -

He'd run and bark, n' dig up seeds -

the farmer's wife would sew.

 

He'd grab an orange from the grove

and jump and run, as if to say -

"Catch me, catch me, if you can."

How Thorn did love to play,

 

The farmer and the farmer's wife

off to buy a phone -

took the truck and drove to town

they left old Thorn alone,

 

With no one left at home to play

or so the story goes -

he crept up soft and from behind

took quite a nip at Rose,

 

The startled bull did jump and kick

apart the fence there came -

he charged the lonely scarecrow

'twas who he saw to blame,

 

Now no one's ever known the truth

just me and Thorn and you -

and Thorn, well he ain't talking

about the Rose that turned to Stew.