A giant contraption
moves with a dull monotone
incapable of action
they die by the millions; alone.
It is not a sad scene
that they die just now,
if not killed by machine
they'd fall prey to a cow.
They are not complete
or happy at all
until their seeds we eat
picked in a time we call fall.
Perfect contentment
they do enjoy
so do not lament
any plant but for soy.
