May Hay

It was cool and crisp the first week of May
and frost fell heavy on the land.
but the grass was up and thick in every field
The fescue was waist high on every hand.
Though the air was cool, it was still time
to tend to the fields and mow the hay.
All the farmers around these ancient hills,
were on their tractors on each sunny day.
With hay mows mounted, circling to the center
clockwise, so as not to flatten grass,
running only on what had been cut
they laid it over quicker with each pass.
The mown grass lay and dried for just a while
to reach the state where it would safely store
then back the farmer came with a rake mounted
to make a spiral round the field once more.
Raked in rows like furrows newly plowed
the hay lay rearranged upon the ground
but not for long, the farmer soon returns
with a baler on to make another round.
Most farmers now bale hay in big tight rolls
that weigh too much for any man to try
they have to move them on a tractor pole
with hydraulics that can stack them up three high.
A few old men still use the smaller bales
like dominoes they spit out big and square
and all the hands that can turn out to help
load them on a trailer waiting there.
It's work, hard and long to put up hay,
and the payoff doesn't come for oh so long
until some far-off cold and wintery day
when the stock needs it to keeps them fed and strong.
So tip your hat to the farmers as they bale,
or at least give them a wave and a friendly smile.
Let them know you understand their labor.
It may be you he's feeding in a while.

(c) James L. Frady,  May 10, 2020