farmer
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I am from sweat and hard work,
from the searing heat of summer
and the freezing chill of winter.
I am from the horse kicked dirt,
and the cattle-branded smoke blowing in the wind.
Who can save us?
A starving world,
9 billion strong.
Or rather 9 billion weak.
Bony, worn, and sunken children
Countered by pink slime cheeseburgers
His skin looks old, brown, and wrinkled; scarred by the Mexican Sun;
His wrinkles are a chronicle of his life-long Wisdom.
His hands are rough to the touch; toughened by years of toil on the Fields;
