Hell Yes, I Write Sonnets Sometimes
Hello from Grand Rapids, Michigan!
In Absence
Josh Ritter
A rich old farmer I must be for that
Walled field within my ribcage grows a strain
Of flower which, upon your leaving, fast
Becomes a blade and then an amber grain
You’ve walked upon this ground of mine so oft’
Perhaps it was I missed the seeds you sewed
But so it is that now you are gone off
These flowers seem to from your footprints grow
And when the grain is grown I’ll take the yield
And milling each day, portion out enough
And I’ll not hungry go because my field
Will serve to feed my memory and my love
‘Til you return, then feasting we will know
How rich the field within which fonder grows.




Truly beautiful. ❣️ You are a farmer indeed and we all enjoy the bounty… thank you.
Bless the fonder that still grows on the absent-hearted fields! I’ve always loved that line, and this poem makes me love it even more.