By Robert Crawford

By August I noticed the lack of care,
And now in September I feel the despair;
The rusting tools, the vanished rows,
Reveal an all too brief affair.

The hopeful beginning has come to a close
As a meeting place for sinister crows
And devious weeds planning for when
They’ll make this a plot where anything goes.

What kind of errant husbandman
Would let it fall to field again?
I think I know, I’ve met a few:
A fine egalitarian—

The type of man, a touch askew,
Who holds the universal view,
“To everything, a heart be true,”
But saves desertion just for you.

 

© 2001; originally printed in Troubadour: Best of
Rhyme.

Related Post

‘The New McCarthyism’ and Other Poetry by Bruce ... The New McCarthyism by Caud Sewer Bile McCarthyism is alive and thriving in the land, but now ironically it is the left that’s going mad. The le...

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.