Two of the young crop of potatoes for the year.

Fear of an extending drought.

This poem is about angst and longing.

Short poems about life during the year.

My Birthday could be best describe as an agony in poor garden, harvested cruel crops of dear love’s burden.

A weird poetry.

Hard work always has its own rewards. work is worship.

Drought, death, birth, renewal.

I love the sun and how it assist nature.

This story is an adaption of a story I was told when younger by the older kid across the road. It was about an insne farmer that snuck into homes at night time and killed little children. I Like my version better because it gives the farmer a bit more character. tell me what you think of it. Give it a comment, tell me what I did wrong or right.