farmers get it worst

Farmers get it worst.

Throwing faith to the wind or Holy Spirit or whatever

catches their hunched-shouldered plod

across winter barren fields

believing rows will spring up

taller than their heads by July.

Full body dungarees are not armor enough

to withstand this summer scorch,

cracking and sucking from spring coffee ground soil

until it lay

fragile and thick and hollow

beneath their steel toed boots.

Yes, farmers get it worst.

Those who put a hand up to


their eyes and cry out

to the sun or the sky or God

or maybe all three.

But nothing comes from their mouth. No scream or curse.

Just a long, cold sigh.

And then

they turn away from the blistering orb

and trudge toward home to wait.

Yes, farmers get it worst. 

Farmers get it






“. . . some seed fell by the wayside; and the birds of the air came and devoured it. Some fell on stony ground, where it did not have much earth; and immediately it sprang up because it had no depth of earth. But when the sun was up it was scorched, and because it had no root it withered away. And some seed fell among thorns; and the thorns grew up and choked it, and it yielded no crop. But other seed fell on good ground and yielded a crop that sprang up, increased and produced . . .” Mark 4:4-8 NKJV


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