04/09/2024
When panic set in and the shelves emptied fast, people rushed home, fearing their food wouldn't last. They scrambled and fought, filling their carts, locking their doors, and guarding their hearts. They worried and wondered, What will we do? With stores running out, their fears only grew.
But amidst the chaos, a sound could be heard—soft at first, then louder with each word. It wasn't a cry or a noise full of fear; it was the steady hum of something quite dear.
For the farms were still working, doing what they do best—growing and producing without any rest. The food kept on coming, despite all the dread, from fields and pastures where the animals are fed. 🌾🐄
Though the cities had forgotten the source of their meals, the farms carried on through the toughest ordeals. Through harsh weather and markets that fall, they continued their work, in spite of it all.
They toiled without thank you's, without much acclaim, on the coldest of days, and in summer's hot flame.
And as each new day dawned, more food filled the shelves, thanks to the farmers, who never thought of themselves.
Then a thought occurred, one that hadn't before: Maybe food doesn't come from a store. Perhaps the farmers, in all that they give, deserve a bit more respect for how we live. ❤️
{Note: This poem was originally written by Anna Richards}
Support your farmer who supports you in every way 💯
