sitting in my old chair <br />on the porch breaking <br />green beans... waiting <br />on the storm. <br /> <br />wind whips through the trees, <br />a streak of lightning, occasional <br />thunder... breaking beans. <br /> <br />thinking about my grandparents, <br />working down at the mill... <br />farming, grew four gardens... <br />cows, pigs, chickens, and <br />turkeys... <br /> <br />no one ever went hungry <br />there... no one around them <br />went hungry... <br /> <br />there was always food to eat, <br />and work to be done.... <br />but that day has come and gone.... <br /> <br />now we work on computers, <br />or dont work at all.... <br />and most young people think <br />chickens come from the meat <br />section... and... <br /> <br />green beans come in a can.... <br /> <br />no wonder we're hungry!<br /><br />Eric Cockrell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-a-can/
