Past the Dutchman's Breeches
and the Whitetail's famous Flip
The Yellow-Winged Blackbird's singing
on the wire up above~~~
and the White Crowned Sparrow chirping
his melodic song of love~~~and,
far in the field, a Sandhill struts his stuff,
as we swing the gate open,
open wide, to get by,
to check on the growth of the slow growing
winter rye.
Past the log barn and ol' yellow truck
back home to our waiting field
to plant pumpkins, and with luck~~~
a piece of Strawberry Rhubarb Pie
after the work is done.
Not two pieces, dear, for you, only one.
Ok, that was corny, don't blame ya if you're laughin,'
but the pie was good.
BlessYa





































