Silos breaching the skyline,
Large ****** of the landscape.
The smells of the barnyard are pungent..
Although not unpleasant, really, rather pleasant.

These old farms all along this winding road,
They've stood tall for a century or two.
Their clap board  and stone attest to a time
When what was built was built to last.

The pictures taken don't quite take in the charm,
The nobility, the steadfastness, the breath of a solid life
People seem as scarce as hens teeth, not a soul to be seen.
Just horses lambs cows and cats and dogs.