Eyes of a farmer

There’s this old farmer I see at the local cafe now and then, he looks like a bear of a man, all weathered and such. Sometimes he has a straw hat.

He’s quiet too, blends into the background with his pot belly and faded farmer’s outfit.

But it’s his eyes that stand out. They’re so kind and gentle, with a silent softness that belies his internal strength. Those eyes nudge my soul out of my body a bit, as if to remind me we’re so much more than who we think we are.

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