Haying: Me, and Bill and Wayne
3 Circle Ranch
Arlington, Wyoming, circa 1963
The sound of thunder drifts down
through the canyon
as if the mountain had gently cleared its throat
The first soft drops of rain fall
becoming a wet canvas onto which the valley is painted
We stand beneath the trees that follows the creek along side the meadow
that holds our fresh mown hay
the 3 of us
sun tanned from thirty days on a tractor, no shirt
cool and wet from the dripping leaves
talking that cocky young man talk
watching our cigarette smoke curl up
and dissipate into the air
fragrant wiht the smell of new mown hay
and mountain rain
laughing like school yard clowns
finishing up for the season
mowing, raking, stacking
soaking up all of life
driving to the cook house with a beer
from our stash in the creek
planning the night
on our way back in from haying
Me and Bill and Wayne
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