A poem about Owen

Shortly after returning from our visit to Binghamton, mom sent this poem that a friend wrote after meeting and talking with Owen for a short while. It creatively captures his love of tractors and the outdoors. Owen's great grandpa Townsend would be proud. Thank you Linda..

Tractor Trials

My name is Owen Horvath
I was born to work the land
I drive my grandpa’s tractor
I am called a self-made man

Beneath the blue and sparkling skies
Or angry skies of gray
I set out on my tractor
Through the fields of golden hay

I lower the big cutter
Mowing down the grass or hay
My lines are straight and even
For it is the Horvath way

When the skies have turned to winter
And the driveway’s full of snow
I attach my trusty snow blade
Clear a path that’s good to go

I can tow things with the tractor
Make a pathway for the sled
So many different jobs to do
Before I go to bed

There is only one small problem
Though I’m three and have no fear
It is hard to do the harvest
When I’m stuck in the first gear

Rhymes from Crocker Hill
Linda Homa