The Last Farmer

I live near the edge of town

On a block of similar houses

On land that used to be ranches

And farmlands

But the needs of civilization

And lure of big money

Tempted the farmers

To break their lands into little plots

Where each new owner has a few square

Yards of grass and a little tree-shaded backyard

The farmer on my block reserves

A little grove of citrus for himself

Protected by a dense fence

Of Italian cypresses and tall sequoias

His old ranch house rests quietly

In the shades

His tractor rusts in the yard

His truck parked unused to the side

His RV sits in the driveway

Facing the road

And the last farmer is ready
To depart for a new life