Blessed am I to sit here today
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Taking this time to carve out a place
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Where I may find some rest and give others solace
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To remind and remember, what can’t be bought with dollars
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From your pockets. Not everything.
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It’s something I should remember.
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Treasure It its all you own
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Treasure It its all that’s your own
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Food costs money and kids gotta eat something
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If a farmers work is honest the contribution won’t be unnoticed.
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I wish I were a Farmer.
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To be satisfied with what these hands have grown
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No food of mine sits in the bellies of others
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Instead this strange secret twisting which each only knows.
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-----------------
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What These Hands Have Grown
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| Waxwing |
