‘Twas the day before convention, and all through the hall,
Not a seed rep was stirring, no emails at all.
The brochures were packed in their suitcases with care,
In hopes that new contracts soon would be there.
Plant breeders were nestled, all snug in their beds,
While visions of hybrids danced in their heads.
With my notepad and laptop, all set to explore,
I had just settled down to draft questions galore.
When outside the hotel there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tripped over some swag, and knocked over my stash.
The moon on the fields of fresh soy and corn,
Gave the lustre of daylight to rows newly born.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a bright green tractor and eight tiny deer.
With a driver so lively, so clever and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Seed Nick.
More rapid than eagles his pitches they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
“On Cotton! On Sorghum! On Alfalfa and Wheat!
On Corn that’s drought-tolerant and forage that’s sweet!
To the top of the plots, to the growers who call,
Now plant away! Plant away! Plant away all!”
As seeds that before the wild hurricane fly,
When met with good soil, rise up to the sky,
So up to the trade show his team they all flew,
With bags full of samples, and Seed Nick too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the floor,
The buzzing and chatter of industry lore.
As I straightened my badge and was turning around,
Through the doorway, Seed Nick came with a bound.
He was dressed all in plaid, from his hat to his shoe,
With boots that had clearly walked fields full of dew.
A bundle of seeds he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a vendor just opening his pack.
His eyes—how they twinkled! His smile, how merry!
His cheeks were like apples, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And his beard was as white as Midwestern snow.
He spoke not a word but went straight to his work,
Showed off charts and data with a confident smirk.
And laying his hand on a seed plot display,
He nodded and said, “The future starts today.”
He sprang to his tractor, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy convention to all, and to all a good night!”
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