Farm Grieves for Its Owner

My latest laird has flown away,
Gone home, left my expanse,
Beyond the heights where eagles play,
Where winds and spirits dance.

Who will come to oversee?
Await the husbandman,
Who will manage usefully,
As a man of farming can.

Where once grazed the dairy cows,
Their paths the hills criss-crossed.
The fields tamed by fence and plows,
Is worth and purpose lost?

My latest laird has flown away,
His lady at loose ends.
Who will plant the fields in May,
Be neighbors, then, and friends?

Life moves on, while eagles fly;
Land bears if left or kept,
A stream still ripples calmly by,
Like love’s tears softly wept.