The farm kids
seemed oblivious
of the silage scent
they bussed to class
and though they suffered
the cold taunts and teasings
of us city kids
truth be told
at the end of the day
I envy them
their relaxing
ride home
to toss their books
chase the chickens
and wrap their arms
around baby cows
step barefoot toes
onto warm dirt rows
pick squishy grubs
off hardened cabbages
jump from the hayloft
onto scented silage
finally called to supper
of home baked bread
golden field corn
and pork ribs slathered
in spicy sauce
while I sit cross legged
on the hardwood floor
scalding my mouth
on foiled tv dinners
with reruns
of ‘Happy Days’
to fill my nights.