By: Leo Lawton
April 10, 2010
The rooster crows, the day begins,
another just like all the rest,
The sun is rising in the East,
its rays are stretching West.
The sun comes up, a little more,
and then the farmer rises,
to start his daily round of chores,
he needs no exercises.
The old sun climbs a little higher,
shadows are straighter down.
The farmer toils at his mornings work,
with just the slightest frown.
And now the sun is overhead,
the shadows at their least,
The farmer slowly eats his lunch,
for a moment his work has ceased.
The sun now goes from overhead,
starts down the other side,
The man completes his afternoon,
his field seems oh so wide.
The suns strong heat is easing now,
as shadows lengthen on.
The farmer goes for suppertime,
His wife says “Evenin John”.
The sun is in its final arc,
twilight is getting nigh,
The man begins his evening chores,
and heaves a little sigh.
He wishes life was not so hard,
as the sun begins to set.
He slowly walks on toward his house,
but its not over yet.
The sun has gone behind the hill,
full dark is here to stay.
The farmer got his final wish,
for he has passed away.