Boyish summer dreams can stay
The grass is high, we’re making hay
Jeans, tee shirts and scratchy arms.
The cows want us to fill their barns.
Rabbits flee and butterflies
The mower soon is passing by
Rake the rows to dry the grass
Hoping every storm will pass
Kerchunk a clang, a spin, a ping
I think the bailer needs more string
Stack them right, we’re adding tiers
The wagon tips, the driver fears
A towering load, the stackers pride
I hope it all can make the ride.
We made the barn, triumph for some
The inside work has just begun
A dusty haze, a chain, a bail
We must keep up, we cannot fail
We reach the roof and leave a space
At night we climb and make a place
A hundred years of offspring lay
Upon this mow and dreamed away
Admiring stars through the port
Above the pile, we built a fort
Rounded bales stuck with a spear
Stout young boys no longer fear
No one sleeping near the roof
Storing dust, the pigeons roost
An eerie calm with bands of light
This empty space isn’t right
Fresh cut grass, I reminisce
Those summer days that now are missed
No sleep so sweet, no sleep so deep
When barns are full of winter’s keep