It’s morning on the farm, hear rooster’s crow.
The sun which sliced its way through summer haze
dyed amethyst the distant peaks that glow.
In flowered fields a herd of Holsteins graze.
Nearby a stagnant pond lolls sleepily.
Its water warmed all day is very still.
Oaks grow upon far banks haphazardly.
Brush blends with uncut grass up sloping hill.
Glimpse regiments of sweet corn standing tall,
their yellow tassels whirling in the wind.
Blue skies suggest there’ll be no rain at all,
a well-known fact of summer, much chagrined.
Pastoral scenes like this in summertime
don’t overlook as oft they are sublime.
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