Mowing the Hayfield (Circles)


The sound of my neighbor

mowing hay

drifts down the road,


tractor and mower circling the field,

the sound of optimism.


I am not so sure. He stockpiles hay

for winter.

I stockpile doubt.


He is young,

his optimism is inherent.


I know better.

Circling the field,

cutting, raking, baling,


stockpiling for winter,

I know better.


He will gain a year

so that he may cut again, and again.

Whatever his destination,


his dream, he will not reach it

by way of circles. 








Poetry by jim
Read 34 times
Written on 2022-06-20 at 16:34

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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
You never know. Maybe his dream is to mow the field perfectly.