HAULING HAY

Sometimes it’s handy to be old. There are so many memories to sift through when looking for something to fit unusual prompts; like Big Tent Poetry’s NaPoWriMo prompt, “Write about getting undressed somewhere besides the bedroom or bathroom.” Ha! Gatcha!

HAULING HAY
by Mike Patrick

Hay bales in a field

Flickr image by Jeff Dyck

It was hot, the summer
of my fourteenth year,
but a full-time job had offered,
and I’d grabbed it without fear.

Five of us together,
would haul in bales of hay.
Two cents for every bale
received at end of day.

Now the heat out on those hay fields,
while loading that big truck,
drove us to our very knees,
but those bales we had to buck.

It was the barn that was the killer,
we stacked hay up to the top,
a hundred thirty degrees and more,
we worked until we dropped.

Trip after trip, we lifted,
loaded, hauled and stacked,
bale after blazing bale
until more bales we lacked.

At end of day we’d take the truck
to a hidden county lake that called.
Our clothes lay where they fell
as we’d dive and cannonball.

The water was so cool,
soon forgotten was the heat.
We swam away our weariness;
another day complete.

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3 Responses to HAULING HAY

  1. Chloe says:

    What a refreshing reward after working so hard. Sounds blissful. Great poem my friend xx

  2. Tilly Bud says:

    Happy days! I enjoyed this trip down your memory lane.

  3. wayne says:

    good one Mike…..thanks again for sharing

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