A Farmer Fixing Fences
by John Grey
He's out on his ranch some place fixing fence.
And hard to distract. For he'll just ignore
Your calls to his cell phone. And what is more
It's probably turned off. The job's immense.
His burden is the overwhelming sense
That if he doesn't do it, that and more,
It won't get done. That's what he does it for.
The doing is sufficient recompense.
The days are searing, the nights bitter cold.
No more unholy squall than when it rains.
There's little money in fanning. No gold
In slamming in poles, he often explains,
Nor laying wire. But it never gets old
When it is your land, your piece of the plains
And hard to distract. For he'll just ignore
Your calls to his cell phone. And what is more
It's probably turned off. The job's immense.
His burden is the overwhelming sense
That if he doesn't do it, that and more,
It won't get done. That's what he does it for.
The doing is sufficient recompense.
The days are searing, the nights bitter cold.
No more unholy squall than when it rains.
There's little money in fanning. No gold
In slamming in poles, he often explains,
Nor laying wire. But it never gets old
When it is your land, your piece of the plains
John Grey is an Australian poet and US resident who was recently published in Sheepshead Review, Stand, Poetry Salzburg Review, and Red Weather. His latest books, “Covert,” “Memory Outside the Head,” and “Guest of Myself” are available through Amazon. He has work upcoming in the McNeese Review, Rathalla Review, and Open Ceilings.