He plowed in early spring
when fields were new and green
the smell of fresh turned sod
that old time plowing machine
In the middle of the summer
with the sweat dripping down
between each close knit row
big hoofprints hit the ground
Harvest time was busy
with pride he did feel
the bounty of his labors
that came from each big field
When the cold north wind blew
came a much deserved rest
that old mule sure worked hard
a plowing machine at its best
Susie Swanson
I love this! I so love reading your writing. It just transports me in time where every you are telling the story. Thank you for such beautiful writing that I so love to read.
ReplyDeleteBlessings
My Uncle Romey and Aunt Gracie had a farm and he plowed the fields with his horses. It was hard work back then.
ReplyDeleteThank you Bethe, glad you enjoyed it. I think sometimes that I live in the past. I try to escape to another time and then I'm thrown back again. It intrigues me so much..
ReplyDeleteThank you Janet, it sure was hard. My dad and brothers plowed with a mule. They'd be so tired at end of day. It was a hard life back then but lots more simpler and fulfilling..
Susie, this was wonderful! People took pride in the everyday chores back then.
ReplyDeleteThank you Mildred, they sure did.
ReplyDeleteSusie, This really brought back memories. The first house my husband and I lived in was a mule farm and we would unearth many mule shoes!
ReplyDeleteYour poem reminds of "Ol' Jack," the mule that my wife talks about her father having when she was a kid.
ReplyDeleteIt was a long way around fields, back and forth, day after day, to make crops. My daddy was a farmer so I know how much work goes into plowing. I remember when he would finish for a day and turn the mules loose, how they would run and run, freeing their tired muscles.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the memories!
@Maple Lane, I've heard of several mule shoes that have been found around here. Wish I could find some..Thanks for stopping by.
ReplyDeleteGeorge, I bet Ole Jack plowed many fields..thanks.
lil red hen, I remember them running like that. I guess after a hard days work it felt really good to lossen up. I'd say your dad was like mine , to tired to run...lol..
The poem brings out the picture of good old days so well. People working hard, plowing in the fields, waiting for harvest, enjoying the fruit of labour - perfect and wishing it is. So love your writing Susie!
ReplyDeleteThank you so much Monika, That touches my heart coming from an awesome writer like you.
ReplyDeleteHi Susie, I hope you are keeping warm up there in there in the mountains! Is it still snowing? I can't believe it is time for snow already. It is still in the 60's and 70's here during the day and about 40 at night. I love this wonderful poem! I especially enjoyed the line about the horse's hoof hitting the ground. It felt so real! Our neighbors have horses next door and it is amazing to me when they take off running around the barn. The power in their hoof beats as they run is an awe inspiring thing to hear. I can just imagine the big horse in your poem, pulling the plow and the power in his muscles. How strong the farmer must have been also to guide the plow straight row after row. I saw some of those old plows on display when I went to the fair last weekend. I have so much respect for the old time farmers and their hardworking way of life. It is so inspiring. Your poem really captures that feeling. Have a lovely evening ahead Susie and thank you again for all of your kind comments on my blog. It always makes me so happy when I see your name and the red rose! Delisa :)
ReplyDeleteSuch memories this brings! My grandfather plowed with two mules long after most farmers used tractors. Especially with his hat, that photograph looks very much like Grandpa. I can still hear him shouting, "Gee" or "Haw" as he plowed.
ReplyDeleteThank you Delisa for the beautiful comments, no we haven't got snow yet but it's turning colder now. We've had another beautiful, warm week up until today. I would love to see those old plows, I wrote a poem about one, just haven't posted it yet. I always enjoy your comments and it brings a smile to me also..
ReplyDeleteThank you too, NCmountainwoman. That's the way my dad did. He would plow all day in the fields and then come in so tired. That old mule was tired too. Thanks for the visit and come again..
A lovely poem, Susie. You have a great way of capturing moments in time in your poetry. :)
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