In the Heartland an Artist was Heard:

The heartland,

is in his bones

agriculture,

his first love!

He calls the sunflower state home.

As he works to unearth,

stripping away the grasses girth

Grazing the fields like bison do

Whistling

the sweetest melody

of meadowlark song

His craft, transcends-

nourishing the landscape

while, enriching minds

Whom

are enthralled within the world

Of his living,

still-lives.

His need to create,

longing to cultivate,

conceptualizing

his own imagination-

Only elevates,

a fire to rage-

PASSIONATELY

deep within his soul

Artistic flare!

A pallet made up

of seeds,

stalk of wheat,

ears of corn,

And wildflowers!

His canvas is a prairie

a crop artist,

wallows

in dust as a buffalo does...

His whistle,

turns into a limerick

Key of C major he sings:

Harney silt loam

Still, I plant

Wind erosion

Still, I mow

Heavy rainfall

Still, I burn

Drought

Still, I plow

fires,

I have seen it all!

At 56 BMP,

his metronome is the

“ scrape”

Of his plow along top soil...

He stands shoulder to shoulder

With the American Bison

Ahem buffalo

The treads of his tractor tire

are like the hair,

on the finest

paint brush...

Each stroke of reverse,

and downward shift of a stick

Reveal a larger picture

A birds eye view,

Atop

a elder cottonwood tree

A masterpiece is unveiled

Exposing the world to a movement

Seeds amass

billowy,

pillowy, mounds spreading across road sides

no avail

Moths and butterflies alike

feed on this species.

The importance of

preservation is prevalent,

in this art form

The artist keeps the values

warm

close to his heart

In the heartland,

an artist was heard.