He’d always wanted Just to try His hand at flying, but the sky Seemed far removed, until one day A flyer, in a casual way, Dropped in to use the phone. “Forced down In your far pasture–toward the town,” The pilot grinned a tight-lipped smile, Went on, “I swore, out there, while Coming in, to thank the man Who figured out that pasture’s plan. Yourself? Then I’m your staunch supporter- Thank God you weren’t ten feet shorter!”
The farmer, from his tractor seat, Eyes the flyer’s take-off feat; And on to work, content thereby To help another climb the sky.
