This Poem Ate My Newsletter

This Poem Ate My Newsletter

June So Soon

written by Katelyn Stenersen

Heat setting in,

Honey bees busy,

The piglets can barely be called that name,

Yet they continue to entertain.

The bull calf awaiting his castration without knowing,

The fully aware farmer watching the date draw nearer,


Eleven kittens roaming the barn,

One has found a home,

Leaving at least seven more to go, we hope.

706 pasture-raised chickens have lived out their days without illness,

With their beaks and wings intact, roaming the grass,

Facing only one bad day in their life,

Countless neighbors nourished by their beautiful provision.

700 more freedom rangers left to grow and harvest,

Before July is through.

Sunflowers bursting forth waiting to be adored,

The sugar snap peas providing hours of garden delight,

to the two youngest farmers around.

Beautiful beet greens,

Quite perfect in stature,

Lace thin turnip greens,

Nourished all the garden critters, I hope they enjoyed.

Strange short carrots we have never seen,

Quite possibly needed to be planted sooner along with other things.

Red and white scallions aplenty,

While the corn didn’t make it again this year,

But the potatoes survived the onslaught of beetles,

Bok choy was a gem again, thank you faithful friend.

What successes and failures await us now, we can never tell.

Maple sage sausage with scrambled eggs and scallions,

This farming family’s breakfast that elicits gratitude or indifference,

Depending on how our hearts are seeing.

The farm stand is happening every week,

People are coming and loving what they eat.

Good food knowledge is spreading,

We are encouraged,

People’s taste buds can’t ignore the difference

between a store bought chicken and ours,

when they were raised with care for their health and wellbeing,

by the farmer who oversees their daily living.

We are struggling with our poor pasture,

The grass not the quality we need.

We are praying for insight from the only wise One,

To know if raising grass-fed cattle is for us right now.

Seven chicks we nearly saved but did lose,

My heart broke and I sobbed, upset, under a cloud all day.

One Sunday morning the Lord led us to rest at home,

And then the cows adventured in the main busy road.

How grateful we were here so the farmer could coax them back.

Another Sunday, late for church,

The pigs decided they wanted more than their two acre paradise,

They wondered if the grass was truly greener over there.

One swarm of bees gratefully caught in a neighbor’s yard,

They’re working hard to pollinate our crops,

Whispering promises of honey as they buzz by.

We love talking with people who are beginning to change their eating,

Eager to encourage them on,

Reminded of our own humble food beginnings.

Every day we wake to new mercies, fresh eyes we fight to keep,

As the sun moves across the sky and the war continues in and around.

We aim to remember that the land, the farm, the growth is not our own,

It is all an undeserved gift from the Giver of all.

We can claim nothing but

Grace, every day is grace.

We will soak in it as long as we are alive,

And then forevermore.

We fight to not fear droughts or storm or death or ruin,

The crops may fail,

The fruit not sell,

But we choose to put trust in our Father with the unknown months to come,

Praising Him for this opportunity to be farmers.

Help us God to trust in You alone,

June, what beauties and struggles will you bring along?