In the harsh reality, of the fierceness of the land <br />the farmer walks over furrows of ploughed sand, <br />in the distance calves bellow, his eyes look at the blue, <br />if a rain cloud is appearing somewhere <br />but the sun scorches like an ach-enemy. <br /> <br />There are lumps of sand clinging together, <br />his crops are spread over a distance <br />when a light breeze only just touches the stubbles, <br />in the harsh reality. <br /> <br />This piece of ground, this farm has a strong bond with him, <br />he walks to a tractor with a flat tire, <br />see the sun growing faint in the west, <br />pray for rain, while he trusts in God <br />on the blessings from His almighty hand, <br />in the harsh reality.<br /><br />Gert Strydom<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/farming/
