"My father is a farmer
His heart is in the soil.
Its there he finds his solace
Among the grimy toil
He plants the seeds in springtime,
The corn, the beans, the hay.
He prays that God will bless it:
"A harvest, Lord I pray."
He tills it and cultivates it,
Provides the tend'rest care.
He believes that come October
He'll reap a harvest fair.
Blue skies are his cathedral,
A tractor his alter of prayer.
God meets him in the cornfields;
They have communion there.
My father is a farmer.
That's all he'll ever be.
Values the land has taught him,
He handed down to me.
I love my farmer father.
I'm thankful that he's mine.
I pray that God will bless him,
Today and for all time. "
Happy belated birthday, Dad, July 2. To describe me you would have to change the hay to "and with wheat he does play." For the tillage, "he notill's it and fertilizes it," to fit the way I've adapted his and grandpa's methods. The central thought and message is there. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
Welcome follower number 111, you know what that means in bowling? Who would have thought 4 1/2 years ago? Keep posting comments and emailing questions and ideas. We both learn from this.
Be careful out there, it's "hotter than a biscuit" here.
Welcome follower number 111, you know what that means in bowling? Who would have thought 4 1/2 years ago? Keep posting comments and emailing questions and ideas. We both learn from this.
Be careful out there, it's "hotter than a biscuit" here.
Ed Winkle
Love the poem!
ReplyDeleteI may just read that Sunday a church when the song leader asks if anybody has a special.
ReplyDelete