Havner Farm in the Hamptons was the prettiest one I had seen.
Black and white cows were picture perfect; with photographic faces.
The baby chicks were as yellow and fluffy fresh as the noonday sun,
Havner Farm was worth painting and keeping for years to come.
The barn was painted in fresh barn red paint with sparkle white trim.
The grass was lush and thick, verdant green, like clover, but fescue.
There was one lone horse, a stallion named Bud with a sable coat.
Haymow. Check. Rakes. Check. Hoes. Check. Shovel and pail. Check.
Everything you would expect to see was at Havner Farm, it was gorgeous.
Two chicks were sent to scope out what the rabbit had done.
He was losing it a bit, having weird ideas about what is fun.
The chicks found eggs hidden in the grass, which was good.
But the rabbit had also hid them under a pile of wood.
Those eggs were all smashed up oozing out candy of course.
He had also hidden some under the hooves of a horse.
Might have to appoint a new Easter Bunny the chicks reported.
To get the eggs under the haymow, he must have been seriously contorted.
cooing blackbirds drowned out with quick ugly squawk
dairy barn invaded by an irritated jay
wooing bovine herds mooing down by eagle rock
airy haymow fragrance potent on this summer day
nest in rafters, possibly of a small frightened wren.
able farmer’s wife shoos prickly crow away
rest of barn’s hay is harsh, prickly and rather thin
stable in August is usually in bit of disarray
Written 1-23-2020
Sponsor: Dear Heart
Contest: Let’s Write a Lento Poetry Contest
Twilight
Glimpse of the Night
Nocturnals begin to wake
Barn Animals Yawn and Lay
Dog sleeping in Haymow
Time to Rest
Repose
Or
If
You
Are
Me
Astral Travel
I climb into the big haymow
On this eventful day
Looking for childhood memories
Trapped in a mound of hay.
The large expanse is empty now
And somehow looks too small
To have held all the busy times
Now sweet in my recall.
It took a lot of sweat to get
From hot hayfield to mow
And then some more to pitch hay down
To feed each horse and cow.
Horses and cattle are all gone,
Mama and Daddy too.
It's time for selling off the past
And starting life anew.
I hear them coming, clamber down.
It's time to sell the barn.
It will be moved, the very last
Of Dad and Mother's farm.
The land will go to buyers who
Will break it into lots.
The only farming then will be
In little garden plots.
Entered in Rambling Poet contest
Inspired by her poem "The House"
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