Farm life means animals that have to be cared for and fed, regularly. Otherwise they would starve. You made me recall the smells and warm fuzzy petting of friendly critters except for the chickens that liked to peck at me and run. Baby chicks were different. Lots of birthing and slaughtering for food or market. And fieldwork done on the hottest days with sore hands and a hearty appetite by the end of the day.

We were city kids, but a few stays on my grandparents' farm or, at our cousins, made me glad I didn't have to get up at five every morning to milk the cows, and then be sure to be back on the farm again at five every evening to milk them again. Those cows got upset if you weren't on time. So glad I never even tried milking a cow. But warm milk straight from the udder was sure good.

Put in four years of working long days picking beans in July and August for something like three cents a pound, average from 9 to 13. Cheap child labor replaced by bean picking machines. But after the day's work is done, farm life can be very peaceful and fulfilling.

Ron

Although I never worked on an actual farm, I grew up surrounded by them, both conventional and Amish. And I also worked for 5 years at the Ohio Agricultural Research and Development Center where i split my time between the horticulture dept. and the Animal Sciences dept.
Your poem captures farm life beautifully.

The glories and the serenity of farm life beautifully laid out in this poem, a moment of peace and contentment in a harsh world of cities.

I did 8 years on the farm, and do not miss that life at all. It was 400 acres of pure hell. I still want to choke somebody for assigning me the task of pulling the weeds from 40 acres of corn sprouts--with nothing but my bare hands. The temp was about 105 degrees in the shade, and there was no shade. Sunstroke and a near-death experience later, and somehow I survived. I grew up to be the mental case I am today. But I guess being alive with cooked brains is slightly better than being dead with cooked brains.