I’m a farmer too. Here’s a farm poem.

on the ridge

if you stay we might could fix

that run of fence where the deer

slide through like ghosts

leaving fur on the barbels

and those places where

the trees come down

bending the pickets and stretching the wire

with all the work to do again

how will i lay a straight line

without you at the other end

shifting your weight like a nervous horse

when i approach awkwardly

i wonder if you really know

the fate to which you led me

if you stay i may tell you

when the moment arises

see how this stretch of pasture

has been bitten down

how greedy horses are

how thin is all this soil

and the trees

i wish we had more poplars

in our grove instead of

these black walnuts

the walnuts break and fall

lightning kills them

for all that they feed

the wild pigs

as for you and me

let us stay and become this farm

the horses stamp the frozen ground

let the earth swallow us here