Poetry From The Heart
Fields of wheat gesture
in the hardness
a searing mid-afternoon sun
sweat runs downward
time’s hard, money’s scarce.
Jobs are rare, no place to sleep
pallet under a tree.
I’ve been gone for years
search for a smallholding to settle.
Tough to obtain work anywhere
shoes need repairs, clothes to clean.
Didn’t want to leave home… no choice
family to feed and bills to compensate
economies a failure…gone haywire!
Country’s in an awful bind
life exists and pains continue
it’s a struggle every day
existence a drudge
try to be strong to sustain
search for God’s light for self-will
to guide me through dark times of misery.
Fields of wheat gesture
in the hardness
life under a pine isn’t what’s sought
Fields of wheat gesture…
Barbara Kasey Smith is the writer of this poem – Copyright 2014 – Use by Permission Only.