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"Old farmer walking home at dusk" by Carol Roede Old farmer walking home at dusk can't think How many times he's seen the new-cut hay Bleed silver light and wait to trap the dew That falls like old men's tears at close of day, When heaven's golden doors are fastly closed And old men's minds turn over fields of sighs, When Night alights to ask us what we love, And from his porch, one stony soul replies, Why cut the hay to watch it fill with damp? Why love the wife who turns to silent clay? Why feed the beast that's never satisfied? Why love the child who takes her love away? Why not admit this fallow heart's worked through With love for you, sweet summer night, for you? About the Author 
I grew up in rural Michigan but have lived in Minnesota for the last 12
years. I was an English major, and am still trying to read all that
good stuff we didn't get around to in college (currently slogging my way
through War and Peace). My husband and I have two poetry-loving
girls.
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Bed of Roses Love Sonnet Contest Winner
Finalists
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