The Farmer
One must have a mind of summer
To regard the haze and the rain showers
That cascade from the clouds with rumbling;
And have been hot a long time
To behold the flitting of insects on the job,
The tickling and matting of perspiration
From the mid-August sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sting of mosquitoes,
In the feel of your own breath lingering.
Which is the feeling of all breath
That lingers during all seasons
Arising from the same living place
For the observer, who observes in the heat
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and nothing that is.
— April Resnick
(In the style of Wallace Stevens)
(For Alan and my Grandfather)
sometimesihatemycat 
Wow! Thanks for the dedication. Beautiful poem!
Your welcome. Thanks for reading. It was in fact your reading of “The Snowman” several years ago at a Monday Night Meditation (and our discussion afterwards) that encouraged me to go back to school. I guess you could say that all of this, blog, writing, etc… is thanks to you. It seemed only right to acknowledge you. (Also my grandfather who was a cattle farmer and recently had to give it up due to his age.) Hope you stick around and find more stuff you like.
Really, that’s quite humbling. Thank you for saying. One thing I’ve learned from teaching is that all of us impact others in important ways that we can’t even imagine. Yes, I have found more I like here. I especially like “Poetry Speaking.” Keep up the good work.
[…] The Farmer […]