Cultivating Cotton

A handful of soil trickles through his fingers
As he looks across the ground
So recently covered by the massive
John Deere tractor and plow.
Squatting on one heel
He digs into the loose soil
Testing the moisture
And the depth of the cultivation.
A smile creases the weathered face
As he heads back
To the pickup,
Cellphone pressed to his ear,
Directing one of the hired hands
On which field to cover next.
The blooms are setting well
And the promise of fall is heightened
By good rains that have fallen.
If it doesn't hail
And there's not an early freeze
And nothing breaks down
He might make a little money this year.
The banker will appreciate that.
They aren't too happy
When you have to carry the note over
Into the new crop year.
Let's hope the price holds...