On an American porch, the sun sets low, Casting long shadows from the barn's glow, Where planings pile by the old man's hand, And pondliner glistens where rainwaters stand. A tractor rests on hardstanding ground, Amidst whispering roses and violets renowned. In the paddock, where the goats find their lot, Alamycin fights the curse of footrot. As goats chew the cud in languid delight, The pastoral scene welcomes moonlight. Nearby, a husband with strimmer in hand, Pausing, respects his wife's cherished plants' stand. So life unfolds in cycles of earth, A tender weave of toil and mirth.