Illinois Farmer

From the train journey described in Taking My Nose Out of My Kindle.

He sat across from me with his whisky in his hand
With the world outside as we rolled across the land
The train passed through Wisconsin, through the Dells,
Bridged the Mississippi, we watched its magic spell
We raced through North Dakota as he talked
He described his life, the road he'd always walked
We watched Montana rise from plain to slope
Up rolling hills and ever on to mountain top.

All the time I watched his hands, so strong
Man of earth, a farmer, heard the soil's song
He told me how he lived in southern Illinois
Growing corn to sell for seed, occasionally soy
Raised a family of four, all were college-bound
Paid without a mortgage, paid without a loan
I'm city-bred so I was awed to hear his story
Six hundred forty acres he worked in its glory.

As we slipped through Glacier Park he sighed
With a smile confessed "I'm sorry but I lied
I grow the corn and soy a partial acre shorter
Six hundred thirty nine and three-quarters"
With a grin he waited for me to ask out loud
What's on that last part that makes you so proud
His grin grew bigger, he'd caught me in his power
"That quarter acre is leased for a cell phone tower."