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Harvest is over,Crops are in, andFalls's first killing frostStirs feelings of melancholySustained by winter's cold,With its bare trees,Migration, hibernation,Wisdom of fallow fields and
There are farmers of many kinds and types A teacher that implants the seed of knowledge In the impressionable minds of his students Helping to grow them into fine human beings
Farming has always been my life, I grow feasts, down to every crumb. Day after day, here lays my strife: People don't know where their food comes from!   If uneducated, agriculture is missed,
It’s the hardest job in the world In the hot sun all day Digging, plowing, working, and tilling They take a short break
Up ahead, amid the dirt lies the fence. Tall and wide, black and tied it stands. It's forbidden, it's inhumane. For it separates people, and people's pain.
Did you know? Did you know that right now, in this very second, there are people crossing? This very second, people running, walking, stumbling, falling… maybe never to get up again, all the water, all the life,
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