Thursday, March 18, 2010

The Farm on Buffalo Ridge - A Poem

The Farm on Buffalo Ridge

We moved there as I reached age four.
It was the farm my folks saved for.
I would come to love those verdant acres;
the stage for childhood memory makers.

Those years from 4 to 18 filled with toil;
our major duty tending cows; tilling soil.
So few days with refreshing solace;
though front yard trees were outdoor palace.

From top branches in the oak and maple,
I viewed with joy the outdoor table
on which my world was deeply rooted
while hidden so high was nearly muted.

Now I know what fed my soul.
It was wisdom in that leaf bound hole.
I pondered long of home and hearts,
and there refreshed my burdened parts.

I love that place with memories to treasure;
Safety, lavish love and truth mixed with leather.
Though years and distance dim my thoughts;
His strength grasped there remains my tether.


Kathleen said...

Love the tether to faith via the land. Sounds like it's sort of a plumb line still to this day. Farm girls unite.

Glynn said...

I didn't grow up on a farm, but the house I was raised in evokes the same memories. Enjoyed this.

Anonymous said...

I have never lived on a farm, but you pull me in and make me think of home nonetheless. :)