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A special poem penned for Labor Day

When our Harvests have ended

When our harvests all have ended,

heavy-shouldered work days done,

When the leaves have changed their color and canals have lost their run,

Won’t you come and let me hold you in the failing, evening sun?

When our harvests all have ended, spring-frost wilted injuries told,

After endless pre-dawn risings and the “grass” is cut and sold,

Won’t you come and let me cheer you in the morning’s misty cold?

When our harvests all have ended, copper cherry branches bare,

After tiring shifts of grave yard, and the packing of the pear,

Won’t you come and let me soothe you in the burning noon-day air?

When our harvests all have ended, hop cones, bitter, dried and baled,

When the apple bins are empty and grape harvests monies hailed,

Won’t you come and let me love you in the Valley’s moon-lit vale?

When our harvests all have ended, heavy-shouldered work days past,

When the snows have filled the Valley and our earnings reached their last,

Won’t you share your life beside me in our yearly season’s task.

Oh, please share your life beside me in our yearly season’s task!

Editor Note: The above poem, written by Guillermo Castaneda of Granger is dedicated to the farm workers and farmers of the Valley to commemorate Labor Day.



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