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Poet's Platform Column | 15 Nov 07

by Janet Nesler | The Scioto Voice | Wheelersburg, Ohio


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As the sunset stretches across the sky
Spectacular colors stretching on by...
Watching the combine roar through the field
Wondering how high the yield.

The brisk air blowing at my face
Enjoying life at this predictable pace
A completely different way of life
Full of joy, heartache, and strife.

There isn't anything quite like bringing in a crop
Working until you think you're going to drop
But, once a year is a small price to pay
To be a part of all this, to live this way.

I wouldn't trade this life I live
For anything you could possibly give
It's who I am and will always be...
It's a farmer’s way of life for me.

Shellby Dawn Jones
Mt. Sterling, Ohio



My heart lingers in the peace of the country.
The golden colors of the autumn leaves,
As they shimmer against the warm sunlight.
The tall grass whispering in the wind.
The picture perfect landscape of the lonely country road
That seems to travel back in time
To a tender and peaceful place.
That leads to…home.

As night falls…
I cast my thoughts past the windowpane.
Watching the quiet surround me,
As the moonlit night covers me like a warm blanket
On a cold winter night.
The chill in the autumn air.
God whispers his wonderful blessing all around.
Once again, the stillness of the night,
Brings me closer to God’s praises.
That leads to…home.

Loretta Craig
Flatwoods, KY


November Wind

October’s leaves take gleeful flight
on the breath of a November wind;
soaring, sailing on wings of joy,
then gently to frosted earth, descend.

Skipping along like a carefree child
in concert with a playful friend;
October’s leaves scurry hurriedly about—
playing tag with the November wind.

Blackbirds gather in bare-limbed trees,
silhouetted ‘gainst a cloud-smudged sky;
preparing to fly with the November wind
and bid winter a hasty good-bye.

Kissed by the frost of early morn,
with crystals of sparkling lace;
brushed by nature’s artistic hand,
the earth is blessed with a touch of grace.

Huddled in heaps of gold-tinged brown,
in repose ‘till long winter’s end,
October’s leaves now snuggle the earth
‘gainst the chill of November’s wind.

Charles Clevenger
New Boston





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