I dreamt I was a grapefruit
Sweet, not at all ****.
My body was roly-poly round
And inside, I had a big heart.

Why do I write this silliness?
It helps relieve the strain.
I am able to lose so much stress
and alleviate my brain.  

Maybe I should be an artichoke
A difficult word to rhyme
It’s also covered in prickly leaves
Not relaxing, just a waste of time.

Let me dream of being sweet fruit
Something to eliminate the stress
I’ll be something people love
A sticky, sweet mess.

Green sprouts emerge.
Magically rising out of the soil,
competing with the weeds.
Tomatoes stretch out, beans squirm upwards.
Melons, squash, lettuce, and onions rise up
towards the sun and the sky.
Soon to bear fruit.
I am witness to a future feast!

Sitting on my porch,
Watching the world pass by.
Enjoying the minor changes,
The green grass grows tall and the birds fly high.

The joy is in the small details.
Fluffy white clouds appear then dissolve.
Birds land, then quickly fly away
While the world continues to revolve

The trees bend in the breeze
The blue sky above the treetops
Below at the roots: dark soil and dead leaves.
Mixed with the debris: a clutter of small rocks.

A yellow bi-plane flies above
Setting up to spray the fields
No doubt his work and planning
Results in a huge harvest yield

Sitting on my porch
Watching the world go by
The joy is in the details
Whether on the ground or in the blue sky.

My kitty, Sis, is a barn cat
All scraggly, *****, and matted hair.
I’ll clean her up and comb out her fur
A few hours later, she looks worse for wear.

Scratch her ears and pet around her neck
She’ll purr for you real nice.  
She sleeps during the day.
At night, she keeps away the mice.

My little kitty is good cat

Not much rain on the farm this season
The grass is brittle and brown.
The only water I find this year
Is the sweat on my hat crown

The horses are hot and uncomfortable
The wind feels like a blazing torch
Every day I look skyward and pray for relief
Instead I get blue sky, hot sun and earth scorched.

Climate and weather change from year to year
It really is quite amazing.
Rain last year meant a great harvest
This year, the horses have trouble grazing.

We irrigate a few of the gardens
The peppers and tomatoes are feeble and weak
The harvest might carry us to next year
This year minor success is all we seek

So why do we do this?
Trying to raise our own crop?
Every few years a sense of pride and success
Tells me “keep going don’t stop!”

A man once admired the clear blue sky
Looking up so very, very high
The sun was quite radiant
Not a single cloud existent
He smiled, not even having to try

"Insecticide is safe, you can drink it."
Or, so the salesman said
So I tried some in my coffee
Now, I am dead.