What The Hands Have Grown - Waxwing

Blessed am I to sit here today
Taking this time to carve out a place
Where I may find some rest 
And give others solace
To remind and remember, 
What can't be bought with dollars
From your pockets. 
Not everything. 
It's something I should remember.
Treasure it it's all you own
Treasure it it's all that's your own
Food costs money and kids gotta eat something
If a farmer's work is honest 
The contribution won't be unnoticed.
I wish I were a farmer. 
To be satisfied with what 
These hands have grown
No food of mine 
Sits in the bellies of others
Instead this strange secret 
Twisting which each only knows.