The Hands that Feed

A tribute poem to all the farmers, ranchers, and producers out there. We thank you for all you do.  

The Hands that Feed - by Brian Morgan 

Within the dark they rise with heed

to mount their horse or metal steed  

with steady hands and back held strong 

they work the land from dusk til dawn 

they mend the fences they plant the seed

they raise the stock they meet the need 

with fields to tend and rows to sew 

a life of labor few will know 

they do not boast they do not whine 

they walk the path of grit and spine 

for legacy for love and for the land 

they work with heart and calloused hands 

the farmer plows the rancher rides 

they face the storms they fight the tides 

the work is long and the days are tough

but still they ask "have we done enough?"  

they push they strive they break they mend 

they start again and they never end

their father's hands and their grandson's dreams 

are stitched within the plow's deep seems 

through blood and sweat and dust and rain 

a cowboy's soul is never swayed 

for kin for soil for duty's sake 

they give far more than they will take 

the rancher's heart the farmer's seed 

these are the hands that meet the need, 

these are the hands that forever feed.