Summer Lost
by Scott Eagan
The summer disappears in hay making
six to eight weeks of weather forecasts
deciding to cut or not to cut, the question
then, mornings powering through tall, wet
grassy stands mixed with clover and alfalfa purple
vetch under gloriously scented summer skies.
Hoping to avoid turkey nests, ground
hog mounds, young deer hiding and snakes
we mow the fields for the good grass, winter’s feed
for hungry cows and sheep growing.
After each cut, the tedding
fluffing the hay for quicker, even drying
bringing the green underneath the swath
up into day’s baking sun and heat. Then,
to rake and bale, hay gathered and condensed ready
for the weather-sheltering barn.
Another summer lost in service
summer lost under sunny or cloudy heavens
a summer lost on tractors pulling hay equipment of
grease and sweat and noise and prayer.
And of a strange yet natural communion
among farmers and fields and friends
of hawks and vultures and songbirds
of meadows and forest edge and time
where what was lost becomes found
and in the finding, the keeping.
St. Benedict Acres Farm, Madonna House.
