better days

my friend
who used to be a farmer
sits
now on the porch
and stares out at the barren
field
where nothing ever grows.
the earth
is brown.
the children
are gone, off to their own
lives.
the wife
is in the ground.
a stray dog wanders
down the road
away
from the house.
on the roof of a fallen barn,
a rooster crows.
what was once green
and lush
is history,
but there were better
days
he swears to that.