Chosen Farming

He never allowed

The sun to rise

And catch him in bed

Unless he was ill.

At three in the morning

He would lay awake 

Going through to do list

He made in his mind.

The water containers

Were filled first thing,

Then the weeding done

And compost added.

After seedlings were

Transplanted, and the hose

Laid out for irrigation,

All done before six am.

When the watering began,

So did the checks for pest

Or signs of progress

In the light of day.

Freshly tilled soil,

Cool to the touch,

Crumble from his hand

Before he left at ten am.

The days that came

After the sewing

And before the reaping,

Were about loving care.

The weather often a threat

Of getting too hot, or wet,

Either having potentially

Disastrous effects.

Harvest days were still

The very best of all,

With the food he nurtured

Freshly gathered for sale.

He had chosen farming

For the early work hours,

And because most days

He was greeted by the sun.

Ria 2016