All over Dakota, the farms are quiet,
as most would prefer;
synthetic crops, fully grown when planted
in concrete silos
throughout their well trimmed fields.

Only a select few allowed to harvest them
at a very specific time,
most praying never to see that day,
including the men who work the land.

Today, the farms are especially quiet,
though once they buzzed with activity;
texture of the earth slowly changed,
climate no longer suitable
for these specialized crops.

Many would like the farms evacuated,
peculiar barns carted away,
but the government disagrees;
"There are certain customers
who may yet need taste their bounty."

Outside the electrified fences,
a different kind of farmer
plants his fields; discontent,
yet accepting of the knowledge,
without the other kind of farm,
Dakota could well be a desert.

© 1993

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03/24/2005

Posted on 03/24/2005
Copyright © 2024 Chris Sorrenti