The Hay Field

Emyr Williams

An old farmer
has just mowed
his field of hay

The fragrances
of just cut grass
ride the breeze

They are sweet
as water is sweet
to thirsty horses

This old driver
would pull over
to park an hour

if it were not for
all the cars lined`
up behind him

hurrying home
without senses


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
This entry was posted in free verse, poetry and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to The Hay Field

  1. ebbtide says:

    I grew up surrounded by hay fields – nothing quite like that scent <3 I really enjoyed this one!


    • Thanks for the kind word . . . When I was young I would be the kid out there bucking the hay bales onto a flatbed and hauling them off to the barn . . . Not anymore! The fragrance though still holds me in thrall . . .

      Liked by 1 person

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