Hay Season

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, β€˜round again
Will it ever end

 

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7 thoughts on “Hay Season

  1. Pingback: 2014 in review | Failing at Haiku

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