Passing Middleman Poem by Manonton Dalan

violet flowers bloom from vines
crawling on sandy soil i'm stepping
soft i could bury my hand; thrusting
i lifted one i see healthy roots
that's a sign there's a fruit beneath
waiting to be harvested i can't wait

this land it's our food; sweet potato
planted as far as my eyes could see
tomorrow buyers will come from city
i ain't selling this year, i'll harvest
those would be good 'sweet fries'
and vines my pigs would love to feast