I’m Only a Goat Farmer
(Author unknown)
I’m only a goat farmer.
I know the sun, the soil, the wind, the rain, and the cold.
I am the man who works with them, who loves them, and sometimes fears them.
I’m only a goat farmer.
I am the sower of seeds, the tender of stock, and the reaper of the harvest.
I am sweat, tears, and pride.
I’m only a goat farmer.
I am the man who feeds the young, and the old, the weak, and the strong. I am the black earth of spring, the green pastures of summer, the harvest gold of autumn, and the cold white stillness of winter.
I’m only a goat farmer.
I am warm memories of the past, the steely reality of the present, and a hopeful dream of the future. I am an optimist, a thinker, a watcher, and a doer.
I’m only a goat farmer.
I live in a complex world made of simple things, and they are my source of joy, hope, and comfort.
I have walked in the early morning fog. I have paused for the summer song of the meadowlark, and enjoyed the beauty of the wildflowers.
I have savored the warm summer breeze off freshly cut hay.
I have paused, remembering, by the pond I knew as a boy.
I have felt the power of a thousand thunderstorms and rejoiced in the fresh world left in their wake.
I’m only a goat farmer.
I am an accountant, a chemist, and a doctor.
I am a midwife, and a mechanic. I am seller, a trader, and buyer. I am husband, helper, and partner to my wife.
I am father, comforter, and teacher to my kids.
I’m only a goat farmer.
Not a man of riches, but a man of great wealth. I have learned to treasure life and all things living.
To respect their maker, and my own.
I am humbled by earth’s bounty and awed by endless rebirth at kidding time.
I am fascinated by the marvelous minutiae of my world and enriched by their beauty.
I’m only a goat farmer.
If a man can be truly free, then I truly am.
The day, the week, the month, they have been entrusted to me. They are mine to spend. They are mine to invest. They are mine to use wisely.
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