Looking Ahead

The farmer’s droppin’ of his seeds

     Each early summer morn;

An’ now an’ then he plants a hill

     That’s neither beans nor corn.

He thinks to fool his neighbor’s boys,

     And chuckles in his glee;

He thinks the youngsters are asleep

     And won’t know where “they” be.

But Johnny through an attic pane,

     Field glasses in his hand,

Knows whether corn or melon seeds

     Are going in the land.

June 7, ‘09