Farm Life

• Jacob Lutton, Grade 5
• Poetry
• 2013

Bill and Joe were working late, out in the fields of wheat,
the taunting sun far overhead which no other light could meet.
Bill was working with the plough, digging trails so neat,
while Joe handled the rusty scythe, chopping some golden wheat.
Finally the sun had set in the west, sinking low in the sky,
the men turned their aching backs, on the fields which stood nigh.
After a feast of steak and beer they turned in for the night, crawling into their dusty swags and slept by firelight.