A ride in the county in a late afternoon,
My Honey beside me relaxed to a tune.
A farmer’s tradition we’ve always held dear,
We’re checking the crops—Autumn is here.
Stop the car!—turn off that noise–let’s revel in today.
Wrapped up in our busy lives we seldom travel this way.
Be still!—Clear your mind—suck in the cool Fall air!
Free your senses and know the joy of simply being here.
Listen for the subtle clues signaling harvest growing near.
Fall sounds differ from summer—if you’re quiet you will hear.
Rustling corn fields whisper as dry breezes meander round.
The clear air seems to magnify unseen distant sounds.
Days are growing shorter, sunset afire in the West
Tones of country choirs have changed; late day you hear them best.
While crickets chirp soprano, locusts join the harmony,
Irrigation wells drone in bass, the final water this crop needs.
See how the corn is changing from crisp green to withered tan?
Filled ears hang like limp wrists revealing the gold of this year’s stand.
Soybean’s yellowing leaves are dropping every day
Exposed are dry, brown pods that will soon be cut away.
Breathe deep and smell the changes—fall breezes are fresh and clear.
They replace the sweet, humid fragrance of the growing time of year.
We’ve used up another Summer—crowded each and every day.
Harvest is coming in clouds of dust—it’s time to store Summer away