The Field

THE FIELD

Alongside a country road a tired mailbox leans
A Coldwell Banker sign staked in the lawn
Queen Anne’s Lace is knee high above the weeds
Where once there lay a quiet family farm

In '62 the old John Deere was nearly new
The barn was proud, the corn stood tall
But the field we grew for that harvest moon
Was sold off with the barn wood last fall

Papa drove the furrows, sowed his daddy’s field
Mama sold cut flowers from the yard
We kids swept the coop and spread the chicken feed
While the swallows dove and swooped around the barn

But the winds blew dry when the debt came due
And papa’s death the final straw
And the field we grew for that harvest moon
Well the dozer moved the ground last fall
They’ll clear the trees, leave just a few
Build box houses wall to wall
And the field we grew for that harvest moon
Well the swallows flew away last fall