Peaking heads of green
Looking up between
The vast long fields
Showing off your shields
Throwing back colour
Of green and yellow
Farmers rushing on
To save their crop and farm
Looking on at rain
Can be their fighting game
While at times they welcome it
Other times it can be their firing spit
Water logged fields
Watching it all die away
Machines not able to rescue
The crops that have been damaged so far
Helping themselves is all they can do
Selling whats left
To the shops and public too
Rushing at a race
Baking at a pace
In Late July early August
The machines will convoy the roads
Loading up the corn of crops
Hay bales are their loads
Children will enjoy playing in them
Growing up remembering making houses out of them
Eagerly wanting to help the farmers out
We would stand in trailers
As the corn sieved through a rather large spout
The roads would rumble
With the traffic on it
Hazy weather
We just gazed on at it
But this year has
Been so wet
Their wares would bring them upset
As their struggle to make ends meet
Sheltering their tired feet
So when buying food
Give a care of how it gets there
For a weary tired broken farmer
Of how much work he put into it
With all his fight
All of his care
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