The airs smells ripe, and thick with memory
As the late summer sun sets low in the sky
The meadow cast in burnt umber hues
Silhouetting the lumbering forms of baled hay
Curled in mighty wheels and left in place
Timeless as autumn's inevitability
Storing the summer's growth, seed heads and stalk
Grains grown to capture the energy and strength
Of all the spring rains and summer sun
Cut, captured and bundled just so
As men have done for centuries
Holding all of summer's treasure in tight packages
To carry livestock and humanity
Through the long dark days
Of winter yet to come.
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Originally Posted by momcat
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