I stepped from my air conditioned office today into 100 degree heat, then into an even hotter car. I wound down my window to get out the hot air, cranked the air conditioner and drove home.
During my ride , I listened to a song by John Cougar Melloncamp- “Rain on the Scarecrow” which hit me. Occasionally, thoughts merge with songs or readings, or circumstances out of our control. There’s no helping HEAT and today, I’m thinking of the farmers.
I wrote one of my favorite poems during a HOT… DRY summer when I drove through water restricted farm fields in New Jersey. From my car, I witnessed a farmer as he plowed his field. The tractor kicked up mounds of dust as it dug through the soil and dead fields. I thought about him- about ALL farmers and how they rely on the weather to make a living. I wrote in my car driving 65mph to work in one swoop- my ceiling caving in, all windows down- no air conditioning.
I won an editors award in 1994 for that poem. It was in one of the few books I actually purchased because of my love for it and those rugged people who give their lives to feed not just themselves, but us too. With that in mind, and the Grapes of Wrath (thank you George Steinbeck), please read on. Thank you.
The Farmer
Ominous skies,
Lethal to touch,
The Vehicles blades-
So sharp.
Day after day, the time passes by…
Nothing is said
Their eyes they itch,
Their hands they burn,
Their partners they weep,
The weather so dry…
How volatile a life can be;
How mother nature can rule,
So strong.
A sweep of her hand: DEVASTATION
And they cry…