The Farmer Poem by jandy porras

Palms that feel like stone
Hard and rough with yellow calluses:
From morn til dusk
It reigns the plow
Toiling the dying and hardened earth
Under the golden hot sun
For the vulnerable seeds to be planted

On his brown skin,
Tanned by years of farming,
Billions of sweat has formed
That has nurtured the fields
He has cultivated.

Full clad in his armor-
Camiso and long pants- tattered and torn,
Straw hat on his head
And a bolo on his hip-
He unceasingly goes to his field.

His bare feet that has hardened
Of parading to and fro
From his nipa hut to his farm
Every dawn and at dusk.