Along the Shore by Casey Pagan

Even when the prices rise

And pennies are stretched thin,

There is a place to go back –

To once again begin.

It is those lush green lands

Where crisp produce fills the air,

And call to my tired hands:

Grow me, pick me; share my fill,

For I will grow again and again

Though others never will.

My leafy greens are there,

Whether you be rich or poor;

So long as you don’t forget to share

The bounty grown along the shore.