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Ten Bales High

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Below is the poem entitled Ten Bales High which was written by poet Michael Wayne. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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Ten Bales High

Brother and I borrowed a ride.
Upon a hay baler machine.
We balance ourselves with iridescent eyes,
On fresh cut blocks of green.
Three by three the layers are stacked,
Tightly bound with sturdy string.
We sprawl on our sides watching the crows,
As we whistle, hum, and sing.

Alfalfa aromas penetrate all,
While shears vent pulsing grasses free.
Snakes flee, mice scurry, cottontails bound, 
From the tines, as ground is stripped for all to see.
We have reached the magic mark of ten bales high.
We rest on bended knee.
But the culmination of our journey,
Leads towards a low hung tree.

Pushing ourselves flat against the fresh cut feed,
We reach through upturned leaves.
Nimbly picking little mulberries,
As purple juice stains the hungry thieves.

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  1. Date: 7/14/2011 10:04:00 AM
    Thats why I called you erudite....you also don't know..i mean u have no idea how beautiful u write...i am mesmerized every time i read ur works. I can visualize the words... Nimbly picking little mulberries, As purple juice stains the hungry thieves.....

  1. Date: 7/9/2011 8:58:00 PM
    sounds like some fun....though when I was 9 ish I had to help my brother put out hay and it was really hard at that age. those things are heavy. hehe