Over half of our crop is in, another bountiful crop God has given us. Hard work, luck and some prayer we are seeing a record amount.

Golden kernels of corn, millions and millions of them fill the hopper on each pass. A thousand acres, plus a little more of golden corn has been reaped.

The wind has been blowing, the temperatures cool as the harvest is brought in. Each kernel does help to sustain life, to feed many others and provide us with our life. Oh how joyous we are for next year we will again plant a crop. The weather was kind to us as was the wind; even the temperatures were what we wanted. I am smiling as this I do pen, sharing the word of our good fortune.

By Iowacornwife (Iowacornwife@aol.com)

In the big city, our harvest's a moon
Farm folks fill us with luscious fall food
Be not mistaken, there's a harvest of kind,
Memories of summer, harvested in the mind.

While one sits alongside a facsimile fire,
That vacation ride will thought inspire,
Dreams of the Alps, or old Mexico,
Or brochures of new places in summer to go.

That fish fry on a mountain side
Or faux horse and carriage ride,
The beach where you met and rolled in the sand,
The moonlit night, romantic band.

If apples and pumpkins have to be bought,
Harvest undone things fancy caught,
Cornucopia of souvenirs, photographs, memories,
To share with Thanksgiving families.

By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)

A bountiful harvest we had this year,
The gods looked down and gave us good cheer.
The wheat was good, nearly the best
As the soy beans did a record per acre set.

The corn was scraggledy,
But for popcorn it was Ok,
Even the apple trees did thrive
And next week we will make apple butter.

The tater patch was good,
And gourds and squash also did thrive.
We were blessed this year, we were,
Makes me fear for next year.

A bountiful harvest we have had,
All that work came to fruition.
Now it is time to finish things up
And head to Arizona for the winter.

By Tom (tomWYO@aol.com)

All the things I have to see
On this table were given to me.
A cornucopia so fantastic,
Could only be made out of plastic!

Realistic? Well...that's a yes!
Could you tell or did you guess?
One thing not to be forgotten.
If they were real, by now they'd be rotten.

So set the table and light the candles.
Ever see a squash with handles?
A fancy tablecloth of paper lace,
Reality we'll just have to face.

Money's short and times are hard.
You might not get a holiday card.
But here we are and nothing new.
Thanksgiving is a can of stew.

By Swampetta (SWAMPETTA@aol.com)

Art by Swampetta (SWAMPETTA@aol.com)






Watch these pages for more poems by our authors.
In the meantime, click the links below for
poems and stories by our other authors.

A Visit To The Falls

Savor The Season

Bopper, Thanksgiving

Simple Pleasures

Once Upon A November


Bittersweet Walk


And.......for many others, click the index image.

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