The road offers more than people’s stories.  
That stretch, across from house three, beside
Fields that often can and will take one’s breath.
Surprised wide spans of hay can capture you?  

Happens to me every time I chance to pass
Late in the day, hay rolls lying there resting
At last after the tractor, rake and conditioner
Have taken their toll in the breezeless heat.  

Pictured there I find the peace of a good job
Done, a harvest gift almost for the asking.
Feel the serenity flow from calm rolls, clean
Field, work done, rest ahead until a winter call?  

Poets might attach a comely metaphor for hay, or
A comedy sketch with cornpone and scarecrow.
In a world of twists and turns and challenge, fields
With new rolls of hay seems more a long contented sigh.