Wilf Davies, 72-year-old Welsh Farmer: A Found Poem
All my life, I’ve lived in the Teifi Valley
in West Wales. I spent my boyhood helping
my family on the farm. Even as a young lad
I’ve never wanted to run away from it.
I look after 71 sheep.
Being a farmer means every day is the same.
The animals need to be fed.
Feeding the sheep, seeing how happy
they are, makes me happy, too.
They never ask for anything different.
Just like nature, I have a routine.
Even on Christmas and Easter
I’ve had the same supper for ten years:
two pieces of fish, one big onion, an egg,
baked beans, and biscuits for dessert.
For lunch, I have a pear, an orange,
and four sandwiches with paste.
I’ll sometimes have soup if it’s cold.
Just because I eat the same food
and haven’t left the valley
doesn’t mean I don’t like to know
what’s going on in the world.
I listen to a Welsh radio station
every night. I’m interested in local farming stories
and new developments in west Wales.
This valley is cut in the shape of my heart.
Source & Method
This poem was adapted from articles I read on Facebook news.
Antonio Vallone, Associate Professor Penn State. Editing: MAMMOTH books, Pennsylvania English, The Watershed Journal Literary Group. The Blackbird’s Applause, Grass Saxophones, Golden Carp, Chinese Bats. Forthcoming: American Zen and Blackberry Alleys.