A Plowman's Epitaph

I want to say a personal "thank you,' to you, if you are a farmer or know someone who is a farmer, because in my view, they are all priceless members of our society.

What would it be like to sit down at my dining table and there were nothing to eat? Horrible, I can answer that.

But for many men, women, and children across our world mostly in third-world countries who experience this tragic sight each mealtime comes.

I urge you to join me in a campaign to "cut back" a little each time a meal is served. That way, food won't be wasted and just possibly, a few more hungry people will be fed.

It all starts with me.

Thanks again, farmers.

KENNETH

Mander, pander, garden and hoe

Sweat, grime, glory and soul

Pain, rain, dream and sing

Shadow, wallow, plan and pan

Daybreak, God's sake, penny and pride

Wife, life, children and strife

Blood, water mud, and cattle cud

Worn shoes, blues, raven as he flew

Bread, bed, light, groping for sight

Age, rage, elder sage, what have I to hold?

Thorns, corns, scars and briers

Useless words no one heard, why am I so old?

Stench, death the wench, her twinkle in shaky hand I clinch

Coffin, walking, sing and sag

Winter bitter, sore and lag

Dim sight, no sunlight, clothes of ragged rag

Glimpse, crimps, goodbye, no more

Salt, sugar, snuff, my patches tore

Wind sharp, angel's harp, my last open door

Gone, bone, candle born, silent horn

Vapor mist, exhausted-kiss, a dying fist

Flowers, towers, applause is sick

Preaching, beseeching, willow be dead

Dreams, beams, willow be dead