On The Farm

A children's poem about a tractor ride up the hill with grandpa.

Grandpa pulls the wagon close,

Connecting with a pin.

To his tractor shiny red,

We anxiously get in.

Out of the barn, past the tree

With bluebirds in its nest.

Waving bye to sweet Grandma,

Who takes this time to rest.

The tractor sputters and shakes,

And does not fast it go.

It bumps on top of the grass,

But does not go too slow.

Up the trail that Grandpa made,

Winding around the trees.

Picking flowers on the way,

Avoiding all the bees.

Grandpa stops to raise his arm,

He points away from here.

We look to our amazement,

A mom and baby deer.

They scamper into the brush,

So Grandpa starts again.

Up the hill to the top,

To where the end begins.

Because we get to the top,

Grandpa turns right around.

We can see the things we missed,

On our way back down.

A butterfly flutters by,

Almost lands on Grandpa's head.

But it swoops away softly,

To a flower instead.

A bunny has stopped to munch,

Some clover on the trail.

He is too quick when we pass,

We only saw his tail.

We pick more pretty flowers,

To make a grand bouquet.

For Grandma because she says,

It makes a special day.

When Grandpa stops at the barn,

He says that we are done.

We jump out and say thank you,

Because it was great fun.

We give Grandma her flowers,

She puts them in a jar.

She surprises each of us,

With a cold ice cream bar.

To spend the day somewhere else,

We would never dream of.

It's Grandpa and Grandma's farm,

We absolutely love.