Morning breaks apon the farm,
The air is still and the mood is calm,
The farmers work is a labour of love,
He looks toward the skies above.

Cloudless and windless it's getting hot,
As the sun reveals all that the farmers got,
Plains of dry and no green at all,
Dust and dirt god has ignored his call.

How much cattle has he lost today,
How many carcasses will he move away,
A morning ride down a long dry creek,
As a tear of sadness rolls down his cheek.

If it doesn't rain soon all he has is lost,
Water and hay a continued mounting cost,
He is in debt way above his means,
It has been the worst drought his ever seen.

His ride takes him past cows and calves,
Where life and death have just crossed paths,
Cattle too weak to stand and roam,
Death happens more than he's ever known.

With these deaths it kills you inside,
Enough to contemplate a suicide,
But you need to remain as strong as you can,
Being a farmer and also being a family man.

Being far away we do often forget,
A farmers life of hope and regret,
As long as we see meat there on the shelf,
We do not take heed of a farmers health.

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Gerard McGowan

Brilliant, absolutely brilliant imagery Glen and your dead right, all we see is lovely pink meat.

Glen Hill

Thank you Gerard, the idea of the poem sat with me for a few days, I am glad it came out okay

Cherie Leigh

Hi Glen...You really showed us the stresses of being a farmer and the struggle to survive.  Weather can really affect what they can produce.  I don't think I will take for granted the food I take home from the grocery store so much.  Thanks for sharing.  xo

Glen Hill

Thank you Cherie, I was going to go into it a bit more but thought that less is more on poetry size. I am glad you liked it


I'm new to this site .however I felt myself on the plain with the forlawn farmer.my friends brother was a farmer that ended his life .this poem brought this shockingly close. Well done 

Glen Hill

Thank you Pip, I am sorry for your loss