The Farmer and the
Screwdriver
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 Popular 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 stayed
in the old orange grove.
The Farmer's Neighbor
The farmer's neighbor
had a bull named Rose -
horns of steel,
and a ring in its 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
changed his name 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 cell 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.
Old Thorn, he was the farmer's dog
They were pals, why don't yea know -
He'd run and bark, n' dig up seeds -
the farmer's wife would sow,
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
- 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.
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