Thursday, January 21, 2010

Jan. 21

When the fields sprout green,
that's when I'll be home.
I got a job to do,
and a man's gotta roam.

When the rows grow tall,
that's when I'll come back.
You got a lot of work to do,
so you better not slack.

When the hills turn to gold,
I'll be back then.
You just sew my shirts,
and get the corn in.

Fields a cold winter white
Your shack a hot light.
My heart warmed by the sight.
I'm leaving tonight.

*****

Buh, so much for one poem every day. Not going to try and catch up, though. This was just the Killer Week of Grading Doom. I'm still behind, but we had conferences tonight (making for a 7am-7pm workday), so I'm not doing ANYTHING productive tonight. In fact, I'm heading to bed here in a bit. YAY FRIDAY TOMORROW!!!

2 comments:

alw_ays said...

When? When will you be back? Will you make up your mind? Where are you going? Why is it okay for you to leave me? It's easy for you to suggest what I do while you're gone, but you skipped all the parts about the meals I make, the shopping, the cleaning, the sleeping. Can't you take me with you? Can't we sell this place and go?

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