Through the summer with its itinerant light Where cut grains are yellow-brownish and knot Full of the gentle wind to bathe its laying lot By the muddled coming murkiness of the night
Where the days are in green leaves and bright With summer in its middle of July and hot Before earth is in its decomposing rot When birds in high nests first try out their flight
I'm there like a young traveler before With my heart and beat in its pondering When the days are surprising in their lore And my mind full of thoughts and wandering I'm like he - a voyager through an open field! When the breeze of midsummer to me yield
I've thought a few times of taking a photo of rolls of hay here in Georgia in the US but I think your version looks better than anyone I would have taken. Helps to have a good camera!
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