*my apologies to Robert Frost
Whose fields these are I think I know.
His house sits there across the road.
And we are in the combine here.
To watch it cut row after row.
We knew that harvest hovered near
The cycle of another year.
With sweeping fields of golden grain
And cloudless skies all blue and clear.
The tractor trundles out the lane.
The forecast holds a chance of rain.
The Gleaner makes a graceful sweep.
We cast our eyes across the plains.
The wind waves lovely golden wheat
Ripe and ready, time to reap.
And hours in this seat to keep.
Acres to go before I sleep.
Acres to go before I sleep.
Love it!! Beautiful word pictures and beautiful photos!!