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The Good Life
The Good Life
I awoke this morning as not a farmer
But as a king in a palace,
Dressed not in overalls but in a blue majestic
Robe that shimmered and sparkled
More than any dull milk pail
Could ever wish to shine.
I stepped out of bed and watched the sunshine
Break the window only to stop at my feet, like a poor farmer
Who wakes everyday only to go to the pail
And milk his cows in their wooden palace.
Oh! How it glittered across the floor, sparkling
Such welcoming light before his majesty.
I peered out the window, in awe of the majesty
That was my lovely kingdom - How it shone
So brightly! The river’s cool waters sparkled
In the moat, temptation to every farmer
Who worked the fields under the palace.
Everywhere I looked, I could not find a pail.
Yet, as I walked down the massive halls, I yearned for the pail
That was my life, the simple majesty
That meant more to me than any palace,
With its stone walls aglow in the shine
Of the powerful sun. No, this poor farmer
Longed for the milk’s opaque sparkle.
Cautiously, I reached for my crown, sparkling
In the sun. My face turned pale
As I returned to the humble farmer
And I abandoned the wondrous majesty
And tempting shine
Of the royal palace.
But when I saw my barn, my palace!
I admired how the dirty windows sparkled
And how the golden wheat started to shine
In the glorious sun. And the pail!
I celebrated its rusty majesty
And went inside to find the wife of this humble farmer.
A farmer’s life is without sparkle,
For it is no palace, only a simple milk pail.
A majesty unto its own that labors until it shines.