A Man Alone

I’m a plainsman who always wanted a field.
Seedbag over my shoulder, I stood above the till lines
ready to throw.

A bluebird sky held a gently swaying breeze
and my hand threw life into the soil.

I was a sailor standing starboard
when the great wave crashed.
Taking the mainstay, I hoisted anchor
and let the skiff float adrift.
When I woke on the beach it was nearby.

Standing in the mountain valley,
my tanned buffalo hide was just right
for the stiff winter’s winds.
I finished chopping wood and
retired into the bright cabin’s warmth

A man alone, I stand as generations before
neither a hero nor a slouch
I build, create, grow, harvest, and nourish
Nature is my companion and
God is always by my side.

Published by Adam F.C. Fletcher

I'm a speaker and writer who researches, writes and shares about youth, education, and history. Learn more about me at https://adamfletcher.net

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