Beans, Poetry
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The Farmer’s Gift to Me








Beans are beautiful even in the fall.

When the sky is crisp and blue

When the beans have dried inside their shells
to a warm and tannish, hue.
Those beans are lovely, they provide so much,
soft and fuzzy their shells to touch.
I am rambling, this I know, but to these beans, so much I owe.

Gratitude for family who comes together.
Each fall, each October or September.
To watch the harvest is such a treat,
to see my brothers, my whole family.
We come together, we share a day or two,
to watch the beans and tractors brew,
that earthly concoction of chaff and seed.
The dust it drives us all to sneeze.
But with that dust, we all receive another gift..
Those Iowa sunsets, so colorful, from the drift,
of all that dust those combines made,
So many colors in so many shades
of orange, gold, purples and pinks,
Our sky is painted with earthly inks.

Ramblings, by Marie Stephens  Copyright 2013

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