The haying done
spotted like freckles are the
mounds
it was early morning when it began.
First the mowing
then raking
next bailing into bundles
scattered across the field
acreage stretching to the sun
the driver prideful of his rows
the perfection of his bales
forgiving tiredness in his frame
knowing sheep and cattle will cavort
in the sweetness of the grain.
The life of a young farmer
blissful
at peace with himself
sky
land
and field of promise his to fulfill.
© Richard L. Provencher
Comments
ScoZen | July 20, 2011 - 16:18
A nice tranquil scene portrayed here.
Richard L. Prov... | July 21, 2011 - 11:27
Thank you, ScoZen for your kind comment. My dad was raised on a farm, and I wished I was too. This poem was written for my grandson who just loves to work the fields on his dad's pasture in Alberta. Richard LP