A poem about self sustainability

Working the land,

a great expanse of green,

I know like the back of my hand.

The effort, the toil,

the blood, sweat, and tears,

are all mainly worth it,

lots of each over the years.

Grain, barley and cattle,

my butter and bread,

how I make my living,

will do so till I’m dead.

Still would’nt change it,

after all these years,

working the land,

feeding the world,

with my hands.