Sunday, October 31, 2010

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

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