by Nancy Quinn

Created on: November 14, 2009

The rolling hills of Lancaster turn golden

As the Amish begin the harvest.

The plow horses pull the wagons

Driven by the men, young and old.

The fields will soon be bare again

As the crops are gathered using tools the English consider old.

The barns are quickly filled to the rafters

And the glass jars line the cellar shelves.

No matter how hard the winter winds will blow

God has blessed this harvest

And the family bows their heads in grateful thanks.

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