The picture,1934.
A dirty bib-overalled farmer stands
hat in hand, weeping,
gazing out over the dried up field.
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Full of pathos this read is melancholy throughout and grabs at your heart. Farmers are the heart of America and always will be. Great poem Smoky.
Wow Smokey... You know I love your poems and this one is just a lovely piece.......The imagery is beauitful....I do family history and come from a long line of farmers here and in Ireland too......You are speaking for thier memory....
A brillant portrayal of the dust bowl, depression era of the 30's. It could have beeb my father. Yes, it is still affecting some of today.s farmers. Moving, poignant and very touching