(Written in 2017)
At midnight, driving home,
The pungent sweetness of drying hay
On nearby fields, filling the night air,
Pulls me back to childhood:
Now I'm scrambling into a faded hay loft,
Dust like glitter drifting into sunbeams.
I'm wiping stray straw off my arm
As scruffy barn cats judge my glad exuberance
From their dim and quiet corners.
This night is dark and quiet too.
I breathe the sweetness deeply,
Its hints of distant days lingering
Like glowing summer warmth that loiters
Late into the evening.