the beauty of it all

as if i have a field

to plow

and worry on,

as if i have a barn

to hold the harvest,

as if i have

a horse, a cow,

a pen of pigs, i go on.

looking up into

the sky

concerned with rain,

or sun,

things being too wet,

too dry.

i go on.

i get up, alone

i lean into the new day

with coffee.

the radio on to music,

not news.

there is only one kind

of news these days.

bad news.

so why bother.

i look out at the field.

the fences.

the tilt of the scarecrow

the direction

of the weather vane.

i see the beauty of it all.

of hard work.

of true love.

i go on.