Ode to James, The Cute Farmer

With eyes as green as unripe wheat,

and disposition gentle and sweet.

A baseball cap your head does top.

Surely now my heart will stop!

Sprouting from boots, your calves so firm

Ripened by the sun, your skin unburned.

Driving on those city streets,

The earth missing below your feet.

Boxes and crates go to and fro

Your arms, divine, do they stow.

Sweat and dirt nestled in your hands

Discouraging not a one of your fans.

Too bold was I, alas it’s true.

But what woman could resist you?