Yellow covers beans,
Golden browns brittle they wave,
Tossing gracefully in cadence,
Unison deer look up tucked deep within falls paradise,
Farmer gazes standing in his yard,
Son taps dad on his shoulder,
No words needed,
Farmer hops into his beat up by Ford pickup remnant of good years past,
Today’s Midwestern farmer battles nature,
Big money Co-op farms,
Trying to hold on to their dad’s dad’s pride and joy,
A solitary tear falls from a young gay farmer,
Living his dream,
Walking the fence line,
Checking the ears,
Neighbors in Iowa,Minnesota and Wisconsin still harvest together when needed,
The wagons and harvestors ready,
Dust billows from the too if wagons,
Dry summer,
After all corn cut bailers bail scraps,
Nothing’s wasted see,
Then cows and deer eat the rest,
In 1993 in October in Allamakee county,
My home rain started in September,
Early October snow fell,
February first after land dried out,
1994, corn what was left from deer and racoons was bailed,
Twenty twenty one September Twelveth fields in Iowa still wave,
From all the rain,
Fields might not get cut until November,
Next time you imagine bitching about prices in grocery stores,
Stop,
Think if those dedicated farmers,
Gay and straight,
Growing up and tending the crops,
Val's Whitewolf Books 
👍🌾
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