Turkey Red

Turkey Red

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I’m the Turkey Red winter wheat
That waves green in winter time
I’m the intersection of two streets
That bears my names on each sign

I’m my great uncle who died
In the fire of pasture grass
He was the apple of great-granddad’s eye
That farm truck burned so fast

I’m named after the man they named the town after
I’m the hope and the pain and tears of laughter
Card games played till dawn
And carriages all horse drawn
Hanging silent in our barn
They still hang in our barn

I’m the tillers under Russian snow
The hearty plant that refused to die
I’m the resistance my ancestors showed
To oppression when they refused to fight

I’m the boat that carried the grain
When the Tsars forced out the refugees
I’m the home they made on the great plains
Where they could pray and farm in peace

I’m the women who kept us alive
With their faith and the strength of a dozen men
I’m the rust on the butchering knives
And the prayers that it would rain again