In haying season I am reminded of this poem of mine that appeared in The Pangolin Review July 2018:
In lovely Saluda County, Sc, I see dozens of bales of hay on the fields at this time of the year. I always roll down my window to smell the sweetness.
Musings of a Teacher
From the road I see them, strewn
over the mown fields like a child’s
From the road I see them, strewn
over the mown fields like a child’s
building blocks dotting the carpet
without pattern or purpose.
without pattern or purpose.
Night and day those bales cense
the air, the sweetness lingering
the air, the sweetness lingering
as I drive by. A completed task,
quickly done at the right time.
quickly done at the right time.
Soon go the bales to the barn,
sustaining life as the cycle proceeds.
sustaining life as the cycle proceeds.
Envy slides over me. My task
almost done for another year
,
but I wonder if the timing Is right,
and whether I leave on my fields.
almost done for another year
,
but I wonder if the timing Is right,
and whether I leave on my fields.
will be stored somewhere and
perpetuate another cycle far away.
perpetuate another cycle far away.
Arthur Turfa, © 2018
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