To remember, to capture a moment, a feeling, a smell of something or someone we love and then… to share it.
Winter Endured by Summer Cured ~ Counting Days
in pale green blocks
in the loft sunlight sneaks
‘tween ancient boards painting streaks
bright broad to narrow strokes
on bales of darker green alfalfa
and second cutting grass
stacked like children’s playthings
in neat rows, mostly,
except when one is wrenched askew
and others shift around it crookedly.
‘Merely hay’ some folks may chide
know not the secrets locked inside
orange and sisal baling twine
holding summer wrapped and dried.
‘Merely hay’ to those who only see the shape,
green sticks, picky, prickly, trying to escape.
Feed for cattle, horses, sheep…
They do not see the country-dance
of sweaty bodies throwing bales,
or smell full-bodied summer’s green
waiting for release as twine is cut,
the bale opened, sending out aroma
sweet to nose of one who knows
this delicate perfume
inhaling deep rich odors bring
warm thoughts of summer’s breeze…
Yet, when I try to share this
most folks only sneeze!
Summer rests in pale green blocks
counting done by timeless clocks.
Days pass, rows disappear
Bales are counting out the year…
Sitting high up in the loft
Smelling hay, feeling soft
chilly winters are endured
inhaling smells of summer
so carefully cured.
Edited slightly January 29, 2001 Copyright Betsy Lewis
Poetry is meant to be heard, read aloud. Thank you Jim for the discussion about reading poetry out loud. Reminded me of this, which was published because I called an editor, read it out loud to him and he said “Yes, send it right away, please!” It was in print the next week.
May we all remember our “just do it” experiences and then just do it!
Namaste ~ Star Bear