Fertile land would be handed down
from his father, and father before.
In his pastures of wheat and hay,
as a youth Steve would romp and explore.
The boy learned from those expert hands
that were scarred from the richness of earth,
labored lessons of till and seed,
and of helping his livestock give birth.
While his choice was a cinch to make,
as the fields were still part of his roots,
he decided to stay and farm
and say "no" to the college recruits.
But Dad firmly relayed his dreams-
education and scholarship meant
that his son could escape this life,
and do better than Dad's time misspent.
Sadly Steve packed his bags and left,
to return with his books and degrees,
to his home, where he'd take the reins
from the father he'd hope to appease.
While away he had yearned to know
how his yard and his windmill had fared,
so contented to gaze and mull
over land and the birthright he shared.
Jack has published over 350 poems in his career, many accompanied by his own photography. He specializes in a view of the commonplace and Americana.