plow the field

another cup
of coffee goes
down. another
morning, another
day of work, of
plowing the field.
i don't even read
the newspaper
anymore. i know
what it says
before it hits
the porch. it's
all bad news.
i bang my boots
onto the dusty
planks, put
on my hat and
head out. the heat
will have
me soaked in an
hour, i've got
a field to plant,
and then pray
for rain. pray
for the crops to
get full and
plentiful
and then hopefully
have a harvest.
it's that simple.