the barrel wheat rots

the barrel wheat rots

in silence

as the cool shadow of fall

descends upon the valley.

pumpkins appear

as lit candles in the midnight moonlight of twisted silhouetted trees,

barren and cold,

and a biting wind that haunts the dirt road that runs over the great hill---

leading weary travelers from the bustling city of civilization,

where the corner stores of America have gotten into the halloween spirit

and even the bum is sporting a pirate’s eyepatch as he holds his jack-o-lantern

kept aflame and warmed by his persistent optimism as he keeps on reaching ---

out to the farm

where the farmer eats his meals

in the soft, melting candlelight glow

that eases his tired soul

and he gets up from the table

and proceeds to go outside

to the barn

to take care of the barrels of wheat that rot

in silence

as the cool shadow of fall

descends upon the valley….