One Foot

One Foot

Poetry Place


Poetry Place


 Snow Falls on Dreams

Do you suppose there was ever a time
when Grandpa just gave up all hope,
     believed he was beaten,
     or surrendered that old farm back to the earth?

Was there ever a barren year, or barren wife,
 when poverty talked too loud,
     or hope spoke too softly?

Were there ever days when he was too tired,
too sore, and too sick to see any beauty in the land,
     any hope in a crop,
     or any truth in God?

There must be a million secrets
resting in the furrows tonight.

A light snow falls on his dreams.

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