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Home – by Lorna Madson Have you ever sat out on a hot summer night, Swatting at flies and mosquitoes alike, And wondered why on earth you live where you do, But knowing all along nowhere else would ever do? It’s a strange thing that binds us to what we call home, Even if mostly
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The Good Life by Lorna Madson

The Good Life It’s called the good life though I’m not sure why, The taxman and the elements sure can try, To break a man’s spirit when all else seems fine, To the body of this country, farming’s the spine.   To most farmers it’s all they’ve ever known, And they’ll tell of good and
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The Storm by Lorna Madson

We have been having plenty of storms this harvest so it seemed fitting for me to share this next poem with you.       The Storm by Lorna Madson As the storm clouds gather and the thunder rolls about, The wind drops off, it’ll rain there’s no doubt, The question is how much we
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