Fields emptied
Silos filled
Soon the loaves
From flour milled
Silos filled
Soon the loaves
From flour milled
Gravel and dust and grain
Roads that go on forever
In the mountains
I feel diminutive
Until I climb
And conquer one
Stand on top of the world
What is there to conquer here
But a thousand miles
Of horizon
And I wonder
That I have never stood
In a field of grain
Ripened
Ready for harvest
This golden crop
The wealth which builds cities
Known to urbanites like me
Only as bread
Or an image on a cereal box