City Boy Visits a Farm
Author: Bill Roberts
I visited a farm once.
Tobacco was the crop.
As I recall, hazily,
They also had
Farm animals,
All much larger
Than I’d imagined.
A horse kicked
My brother in the head.
He was never
Right again.
Or did the horse
Kick me instead?
I can’t be sure.
It’s the reason
I never liked vegetables.
They grow on farms.
It’s also the reason
I don’t ride horses.
They grow on farms, too.
Note: Goes to show what I know about farms and its inhabitants. Fortunately, over the years, some of my work colleagues and close friends grew up on farms and were kind enough to suffer my questions. Their answers provided a liberal education such that I’m glad I didn’t grow up on a farm as they did – too damned much work involved. When asked if they’d ever consider going back, say, after retirement, not a single taker. That was then, this is now. The poem, though broadly drawn, is essentially a true retelling.
