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Second Cutting
by Grant Wasden

The field sings with honey bees
Purple flowers in bloom
New growth up to our knees
with its fragrant perfume

Time to mow again
A second cutting to store
before the frost sets in
and winter is at our door

The mower is all set to go
The sickle bar shimmering in the sun
I lower the blade over the row
And cut the hay until we are done

Down the field mowing a swath
Shearing the crop to the ground
until it is covered like a cloth
waiting to gather into a mound

The balm of fresh-mown hay
Letting it lie in the sun to bake
The night air sweetened away
before it is dry enough to rake

Horses brought from the barn are ready
Harnessed with collar and hane
Hitched to the rake and holding steady
Till off we go with a flick of the rein

They tug and pull
Gathering cuttings on the way
Until the rake is full
With bundles of new hay

With a wagon to trundle
We reap its yield
Stowing each bundle
As we harvest the field

We build a haystack strong and secure
Gathering the crop from far and near
Piled off the ground where it will cure
The hay is stored for the coming year.


 

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