Cattle sleep silently in the field.
The hill is dotted with their dark figures.
From habit I count them silently.

I am glad I know the farm life.
My connection to the earth is strong.
I keep my mind grounded.
I feel a part of the natural world.

I watch the rain and know drought is leaving.
How could I ever forget this life?

My father planted these giant fields.
The grass and alfalfa feed the herd.

Now that we have left, I get nostalgic.
I smell the hay as I pass by in summer.
I grow hope in my heart as I see the herd.

W. Wayne B.