Dirt Rich Dollar Poor

A photo can never full present, What the farmers heart does see, The heart sees something heaven sent, A place where that heart is free.

'I am dirt rich, and dollar poor.'
That is why I protect my wealth,
I walk upon it doing daily chore,
Enjoying my good health.

Neighbors oft stop by to just say 'Hey,'
It's something like Heaven, in the Spring,
When growing crop, music does play,
Specially at night, when stars take wing.

The crop would sing the growing song,
The stars would sparkle as God hummed along.
Yes, we were wealthy, the rich were poor,
We lived each moment, they own a door.

So, in the hum drum of living strife,
Where tall buildings gouge God's sky,
Married to the Earth is a special life,
Where we grow makings for Apple pie.

These words, above, my answer sure,
When City-folk ask, feeling sorry for me,
They only need come and take the tour,
To know the riches we have, for free.

AMEN