2019 (A Farmer’s Christmas Lament)

2019

(A Farmer’s Christmas Lament)

 

Sure am glad Christmas is here 

Because it’s been one hell of a year 

With global warming turned wet and cold, 

And early snow like in days of old. 

Half the corn is still out in the field, 

And don’t even ask about the yield, 

Nor the price per bushel of grain 

With no China deal and all that pain: 

Count yourself lucky for half a crop, 

And be thankful for what you’ve got, 

Because there’s neighbors all around here 

Who didn’t even get to plant this year. 

We’ve certainly had too much rain 

Which has made a dyke of every farm lane, 

Flooding fields on either side 

That lap and tear at a farmer’s pride! 

And then, as if markets an’ nature weren’t enough 

To make the year rough and tough, 

Politicians keep spreading their fertilizer 

On barren fields because they’re none the wiser! 

So nothing much else has been getting done, 

With only fleeting glimpses of summer sun, 

Except trying to keep those wet fields black 

And the miserable weeds from coming back. 

Oh, I hear milk is up a bit 

But you can’t see a cow from where I sit 

Because every small dairy farm in our town 

Has folded, ceased, and already shut down. 

Yet, I’m still hopeful for more December cold 

To finish the combining when the fields hold 

And earn some cash for next year’s seed, 

To top off the pile I didn’t need, 

And a few gifts under the Christmas tree 

For everyone who’s been putting up with me, 

Cussin’ an’ fussin’ an’ bendin’ their ear, 

Because it’s been one hell of a year!

 

Merry Christmas!

 

©2019

James N. (Jim) Zitzelsberger

Amish Christmas Wishes

 

Amish Christmas Wishes

If, for Christmas, I got a sleigh

And a couple of fancy mares,

We’d high-step through the snowdrifts

To share these thoughts and cares.

I’d hang their britches with sleigh bells,

Tie yellow ribbons in their manes

With red ones in their forelocks

And polished brass upon the hames.

Blue bows would adorn their fetlocks,

Silver studs ‘round nose and brow

And an old buffalo robe would warm me

Down the road from where I’m now.

We’d pull up to your doorstep

And I’d gently put you in the sleigh,

Tucking the warm robe around you

Before merrily slipping away. 

Down the snowy roads we’d travel

Between fences under fallen flake

Laughing at the weather

And every turn that we take.

But, alas, in the snow there is no letup,

And I have neither sleigh nor mare

No robe to warm me down the road

No way from here to there.

Except for these driving lines

Penned on a snowy Christmas Day

To pass the time and distance

Between you and me, and a sleigh….

by

James N. Zitzelsberger

© 2018