Pastoral Passtimes

Rest beneath these watchful trees

Sheltered from both rains and rays

Welcome balm for agonies

Brought by endless plowing days.

Breathe the musk of ochre furrows

Rising from the fresh turned ground.

Watch the playful muskrats burrow.

Hear the crickets festive sound.

Regard the rows with satisfaction

Stretching toward the distant wood.

The work’s not done- not by a fraction

Even though the labor’s good.

Though I’d bask long, amid this splendor,

I’ve more toil yet to render.

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