Rhyming Stories

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The Dusty Old Farmer

The dusty old farmer rolls off his warm bed,

Only one eye open and the other still seeing red.

The pain in his back reminds him that he’s not dead.

Sounds echo from the barnyard that those cows need to be fed.

His trusted Collie jumps off the bed to the floor, Her daily ritual is repeated once more,

Whines and whimpers as she waits near the back door.

The sounds of the coffee pot on the wood stove brewing its best,

Content smells linger throughout the house, putting his mind to rest.

Across the wooden farmhouse floor, sneaks a little pest.

The dusty farmer climbs into his dirty torn jeans,

Stains on his clothes are deeply embedded from the greasy old machines.

Cuts and bruises on his arms show from shovelling and planting of the beans.

Coffee cup in hand he struggles to kitchen table, half asleep,

And the silent mouse knows not to make a peep.

The collie barks into a shed as it wants to play hide and seek.

A great northern blows itself in as the old house begins to creak.

The dusty old farmer groans to himself, ‘what a heck of a week.’

He gets up from the chair as he has his last sip,

Puffs the cigarette that is still stuck to his lip.

Pushes away last night’s empty tin of sardines that made him feel sick.

Opens the house door to see the cows in the garden now eating the last stick.

And his trusted collie meets him at the door and gives his hand an unconditional lick.

With cap in hand, he staggers to meet the day,

Off to the barnyard and unroll the cow’s hay.

His trusted collie, chasing all the calves into play.

Now, a broken gate to mend before he can be on his way.

He takes his old torn handkerchief and wipes yesterday’s dust from his eyes.

In the distance, the sound of a newborns’ cries.

Behind the old shed, a new mother with her first birth.

Round and round she chases the collie for what it’s worth.

As the newborn lays hungry on the cold morning earth.

Back to the barn he chases and entices the young pair,

As the cool northerly whips and chills at the damp new air.

In the pen, the new mother nurses her new born, as a barn cat stops to stare.

And the thunder sounds in the distance and shakes the old barn from everywhere.

The newborn kneels into the warm straw and now lies without a care.

The cat that stopped and stared, now sleeps with the newborn and become a pair.

And now a feeling of contentment fills what was empty air.

Now the dusty old farmer knows he must get on with the day,

He closes his mind to what the radio and weather man had to say.

The word is the grain markets crashed again today,

Another year with struggles and very little pay.

He climbs into the old rusted International grain truck and off they go,

He and his trusted collie on the road they both know.

They wave to the neighbor in passing with the new green tractor that he loves to show.

The new drops of rain on the cracked windshield now turn to cold snow.

He backs to the seeder and shovels to fill it to the top.

The lid is closed to prevent the snow entering and cause the beans to turn to slop.

He checks the seeder and corrects his last mistakes,

Climbs onto the faded old tractor, turns the key and hopes it wakes.

Smoke rings from the exhaust fill the air as the faded tractor coughs and shakes.

The inquisitive collie sniffs and claws at each ground hog hole,

Turns and runs as it chases birds in the fresh falling May snow.

The farmer stays planting for he has lots to sow, and he watches his faithful collie run and go.

The light of day is led away as darkness is here this night.

The clouds roll in and cover the land like a shroud to hold this scary fright.

The dusty old farmer looks up to see a dark vacant sight.

The howling sound of the collie unbuckles the farmer’s spine as a Lunar Eclipse takes away the light.

He removes his worn cap and gives thanks this night, and holds his faithful collie, preventing its fright.

The hand of God reaches from the Heavens and covers the stars this special night.

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