Daleen Enslinstrydom Poems
The Hands Of A Farmer
I have known those hands all of my life
and many times I have looked at those hands,
at big rough hands that worked the fields
and calluses in their palms tell a own story
and the fingers are big
and when they grab they hold on.
Those are very strong hands
but they are gentle when they touch the family.
Those hands sowed the wheat
and harvested the sheaves,
those hands planted maize
and brought home the first ripe corn.
Those hands brought life,
helped the cow that struggled during birth,
those hands carried the lambs
to a place of ...
When twilight falls
and shadows stretch like days without end
there is a place in the garden
where I come to rest
while the sun colours the sky
from blue to dove-grey,
the day draws to an end
and the sun changes to a glistening ball