Little people wear big hats
To protect them from the splintered
Sunshine that would shower down
In cascading waves like amber grain
Ready for the harvest.

The harvesters waited for the dew to evaporate
Eating their rolls and washing it down
with steaming mugs of hot coffee
Real coffee, strong coffee,
No raspberry latte from Starbucks here

Mounting their machines like steeds of old
They rolled across the fields
Leaving only “stems and seeds”
among the shattered and shredded stubble
No chance for the poor to glean anything here

A lifetime of planting, tending and harvesting
Has ended in naught, as in zero
The kids are all gone and the wife is too
The Big Combine has gobbled up another family farm
No way for the Little Man to make it today

No way for the Little Man to make it today

“In the field of opportunity it’s plowing time again.” – Neil Young