Dust Makers

I just washed my car,
Now it’s covered in dust.
It was so clean and shiny
And now has a brown crust.

In spring farmers sew
Their fields with grass seeds.
They spray fertilizer
And they spray bugs and weeds.

As the grasses grow taller
Something new hits the breeze,
The plants spread their pollen
And it makes people sneeze.

When the grasses dry out
And are ready for harvest
The combines sort out
The seeds from the rest.

The dried up cut grass
Is turned into bales.
And when it is hauled
It leaves messy grass trails.

You can’t see the plows
But you know they are there,
Just look for the moving
Clouds of dust in the air.

I can’t help but wonder
As that crust starts to harden,
What sort of effect
Does it have on my garden?

I try not to worry,
I try not to panic.
But the dust that is falling
Is not certified organic!

I love and appreciate
The work of farmers.
But I don’t trust the ones
Whose practices harm us.