Chores are done at dawn,
coffee brewed with a yawn.

Rooster crows on his toes,
at dusk our day comes to a close.

Raindrops fall from the skies,
as a Bald Eagle cries.

Mending fences ends in defeat,
wet grass smells so sweet.

Seasons come day by day,
field hands never seem to stay.

Green apples on the tree are so tart,
this farm is part of my Heart.

Dedicated To: B/B

ŠAnne Marie Hunter
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