Photo Credit to Jevie Neri Tan
The man toils the land for a living.
At pre-dawn, he sets on a lonesome cold journey;
Armed with tools, towel, and victuals.
His neighbourhood is just a sparse of empty space.
Where he lives is remote and dense woodland;
Under no circumstances, civilization exists.
He walks briskly, whistling, a solace for company;
While the watchful owl looks on, nonchalantly agrees.
The colossal tasks ahead are his alone to mind.
His face shines with delight to see the sunrise
Slowly, and softly springing out from the east.
He’s enthused by the burgeoning weather fair.
He sweats blood from morning till twilight drapes the sky;
His labour is not in vain when harvest time comes.
His work is over; happy is he at the close of day!
The land gives back what the man does to her.
Opulent yields are rewards for his untiring duty.
By gracious weather in all seasons’ due are given.
Man, land, and weather are three vital forces
Inherent stakes for survival in this world of care.
Man works...
weather nourishes...and,
land produces!
Leah C. Dancel
Copyright@2008
All rights reserved
17 March 2008,
SH NSW Australia
Dedicated to my Late Grandfather, Juan Casis of Romblon. He's a farmer by day and a fisherman by night.
