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Snow dropped drifts in October
Rain blanketed September
And harvest was postponed
That year until the late November.
The soybeans squished like marshmallows
The corn grew mold and spoiled
Out on the stock at harvest time
In the late November.
Machinery stuck in mud
As farmers crazed to get their crops
Pushed onward in the fields
until far into the late November.
In June the farmers praised God
For moisture that came in plenty,
But not so grateful were they
When it fell in late November.
Trucks lined up at the elevator
Hoping the harvest was dry enough
But, they were too late to harvest
As it became the end of November.
The crops stood in the field that year
Past the month of December,
Spring would mean plowing under
The disappointment of late November.
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John Barleycorn must die.
Corn Maiden turns to dust.
Leaves from summer
Go out in a blaze of glory.
It is not for the fruit
Defiant heads sway
Looking at death in the eye
Backs strong but supple
Ready to face their fate
As machines hack away
Their
Come celebrate fall and its annual bounty
Of autumnal harvest reaped throughout the county.
We greet our neighbors at farmer's
Rejoice in Nature's generosity
For it is Harvest Time
Gather up all Her offerings
While still ripe and in their prime
Do not
by Kressa Singh
Clasping hands on pumpkin stems
Squirells stuffing acorns in their dens
Tractors rolling through the fields
To gather for
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Poetry: Harvest time
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