Hay Time (POEM)
There is not much more fun than play’n
In the rolling fields we’re hay’n.
It is a seasonal feast
For us farmers at least
As we know that it’s time for the bale’n.
We wait for the day
When it is time to cut hay
All the friends, they load in the wagon.
They come out to give hand
To this hay fielding land
There isn’t a kid whose hind end is a drag’n.
Something special takes place
As we all help out in the race,
To get hay in the barn before rain.
It is almost sacred to us
Who lift bales while we cus
Because this hay is our livestock’s gain.
To put meat in the freezer
And food on the table
It is fall feasts that our hay’n days enable.
~ L. Davis, #thepoetfarmer