Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash
Little farmers do their best
To stay out of the blazing sun
Digging channels for the rain
Mapping routes for seeds
And airy spirits
Always working, waiting
Watching their crop grow
To heights they’ll never reach for
And a harvest they’ll never see
Delicious Detritus descends
On future generations
Traveling along the roots
Laid out for them
About the Creator
Sean A.
A happy guy that tends to write a little cynically. Just my way of dealing with the world outside my joyous little bubble.
Comments (4)
“ Watching their crop grow To heights they’ll never reach for And a harvest they’ll never see”—that part gave me goosebumps
I like the imagery of the farmers staying out of the blazing sun. I like the switch of the rhythm to, waiting working, watching. As if the flow of the poem was expecting another line to breath it's air. Lovely. I like how you linked the future generations to the roots of the plants. I could see the farmers farming, your words did well to paint a vivid image. 🤗❤️
Stole my heart with those last two lines Shaun! Immaculate word play!
You are a keen observer of small things, Shaun!