Sky Farmers

The universe is too small and simple things are important


Early Days:


We couldn’t grow anything on the Moon

So we built this farm between deep red cliffs

And we watch for the times that the bright, blue Earth

Shines in the black sky.

 The ground is fertile and we have dug water

From the dark ice in the south.

The days will come when children can run

Free near small rivers.

 And the sky will be blue.



 Our fathers found the red lands too small

And so we make our farms on a green world

Which travels with it’s entourage of tiny moons

Around a blue star.


Some of the constellations remind us of the images of Earth,

But some are odd.

Like animals that our ancestors never hunted or farmed,

And have different meanings in our lives.


There is much water and many lush valleys.

The children grow strong in the heavy gravity.

And play their games in the long days,

And dream of the blue world so far away.


Much later:


The clan is spread on worlds

So far from home

That the children are different in shape

As well as colour.


And the giant ships that pass between peoples

Take our fruit to the edges of the galaxy.

And our grain to the rich, blue world

That our race sprang from.


The simple things never change.

The End

1 comment about this poem Feed