Taking Nature Inland

by DynamicEquilibrium115

Pastoral of the Earth Pony

Praise the sun! Praise its gifts of infinitesimal gratitude and it praises us with warm revitalizing light touching the ground in spots before fully allowing itself onto our bodies. In a world of many forms it is the solitary thing from which nourishment comes in endless supply, from its caressing unprejudiced eyes. For in this world, the terms of class perceptions deem us as mere peasants, at the beck and call of the noble demand, by fate tilling the land, overshadowed by the higher class presence, by nature’s cruel hand. Cursed with backs bare as peeled potatoes and foreheads just as bland, this form doomed to stay with us for all eternity, the high ones sparing nary a glance, filled with utmost contempt to what their eyes behold.

We work, diligently with confidence ploughing endless hills and fields, individually planting each seed by hoof, fertilizing with the hope that from each small capsule new life will yield. From each to another they grow, by tender loving hooves, by miles of prepared land, by the faucets of the sky and by the sun. Not all will come to be, despite the tireless work, sometimes there is not much to see, by nature’s curious quirks. A full bearing tree of ripe fruit? The soil was too poor. Crops of the finest corn and wheat? They died of thirst long ago. The sun? Dependable as always.

The ones that feel little concern of earthly matters, turn to teacups like bees to honey, carefully constructed pastries their lips do grace, not a centimeter of frosting out of place for a noblepony deserves no less. And from shaded views into which the sun’s reach falls short, idle chatter of the new trend each sheep of the herd is bound to follow, with weak minds frail and hollow, all beneath Celestia’s resort.

On the farm, simple lives are led, fields are planted and harvested, each year’s crop bountiful. The soil is not always perfect, the weather is erratic but the sphere of the sky is reliable, fueling life, happiness and hope. We dwellers of the earth seem rash and foolish to the opinions of prejudiced ponies, primitive in our ways, lacking upper class sense, thought best to stay in the dirt and hay. But among our kind there breeds creative and thoughtful minds, not prone to greed, simple entertainment easy to find. Though our lives are filled with endless toil, cantering about prodding cast off soil, we remain strong proud ponies of the earth, the sun reminding us of our meaningful worth.