Hay Season

I’ve read Symanntha’s blog, Failing at Haiku, for some time. The hay bales are a beautiful sight to me, and good to read her poem.

Failing at Haiku

Chicken Houses and Hay Bales.

Hay Season

Gnarled hands hold a battered jug
Cold sweet water quenches thirst
Clouds roll in and dad surrenders
Dust cakes clothes, faces, and hands
Sun beats down, burning skin
The hay is still not in
The scarred jug bounces home again
Ice long melted is replaced
The jug makes its journey back
Leaking sweetness to the mouth
Holding steady in the sun
This season’s work is almost done
Rake and bale, ‘round again
Will it ever end

National Blog Posting Month is almost over. Have you enjoyed it?

View original post

2 thoughts on “Hay Season

  1. Love driving through the country and seeing round bales in the fields!
    Enjoyed the poem, there is just something special about cutting and baling hay. There is a peacefulness about it for me. Of course, I am not doing the extremely hard work!

    Liked by 1 person

Comments are closed.