Piquancy of Poetry

Poetry from Sussex in Delaware. Poetry to pique the imagination of 21st century men and women. Hands in the Field/Fields of melons Red tomatoes in view/We'll pick under the blazing sun Straw hat to shade my pate/Skin tanned dark, turned leathery From years of work, in summer heat/This job sure as hell, ain't neat Before the sun stands high/In the noon sky I'm weary, beat/No water or cola can quench My thirst from the dusty, dry/Sweat like a pig Smell like one too/Twenty-five of us Empty baskets piled high/At row's end Three hundred acres/'til we're done No wonder my back/Creaks, aches I feel like a trained ant/Pulling the fruit from the plant To myself I begin to ask/Lord, can't some of these baskets Fill themselves/While I shade myself Neath that tall, lonely old oak/I'm tired, weary folk This picking job/It's a terrible joke