David Hightower - Haying Time in Chattooga County - Americana - Appalachian Poetry - wildlife - farms
Haying Time in Chattooga County
Round bales, taller than a man,
seem to appear overnight
like an invasion of mythical animals
seeking some secret destination.
They gather in meadows and fields,
scatter across the rolling hills,
a vast herd passing through
on a mysterious migration.
The afternoon sun glints
off their green-gold pelts
as they graze across the grass
that has become themselves.
Docile creatures intent on their journey,
they ignore the flapping of crows
and the clamor of wild turkey
competing for the feast of insects
between massive bodies.
Evening, and ponderous beasts
begin to stir and move
lured into life by the beckoning moon.
They migrate into purple twilight,
disappear into the night,
their steps so light
only silence can hear them.
from mundane roots a marvelous piece of art and entertainment David -- it is open ended, limited in possibilities only by the number of available persons to query imaginatively -- a most enjoyable rendering -- may peace and love be always with you my friend -- Jon Michael
David, I admire your visual imagination. "Haying Time..." takes me back to Oklahoma where golden bales were scattered across pasture land as far as the eye could see. Beautifully written! ~leslie
an enchanting write, david. some cube it, some stack it, some roll it--whatever the style, there is something special about those scattered bales of hay peppering vast expanses of open land...
well done, poet,
carolyn
David, your words...your use of language invoke such feeling....and my favorite lines,"They migrate into purple twilight,disappear into the night,their steps so light only silence can hear them."....simply beautiful.
David,
You invest the scene with subtle mystery and a certain spirituality, mundane bales become characters with destinations and agendas...and we never know who or what they really are as they slip away - appear(ln2)/disappear(ln22)into their own world. This is how to make the ordinary worthwhile.
I absolutely love this-- the feelings especially that it invokes--stealthy... There's a picture I saw last winter that would go perfectly with this-- I'll have to google it and send you the link. --Charlie
A very nice allegory running through this, David, and I enjoy the quiet voice of the last four lines ending with "only silence can hear them." They must migrate west to pick up the bales here to take with them. I, too, find it interesting how insects, birds and other life changes around them. Even our dogs like to lay on top of the bales.......Jerry
From First Love to its destructive end and on to new beginnings, Mary Angela Nangini's poems explore the birth and death of a relationship. The powerful poems are presented in two parts with an introduction to her next book My Ontario Beautiful. (Th
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well done, poet,
carolyn
Georg
You invest the scene with subtle mystery and a certain spirituality, mundane bales become characters with destinations and agendas...and we never know who or what they really are as they slip away - appear(ln2)/disappear(ln22)into their own world. This is how to make the ordinary worthwhile.
John
Cheers,
Dan