Over past the crooked tree, near a shallow slough,
A forgotten plow sits alone with rusted clevis and pin.
Parked there by the farmer, away from the summer’s sun
Abandoned – then forgotten, now just steel and tin.This stoic farmhand, wedded to the soil,
Tills a prairie grass field, while the summer wind blows.
The steering wheel is corroded, cracked, locked and set on course
Just beyond worked field and furrows, a handy perch for crows.©2017 Clarence Holm
PrairieChat 
Reblogged this on Writing, events, competitions and the occasional personal musing and commented:
I see it, as shiny as the day i left it, in my youthful impetuous anger all those years ago, when I was so dis-satisfied and foolish but hopeful.