Get down from there, my old man said,
before you hurt yourself.
Me and Little Sis were playing
in the hayloft where all the bales
were piled up high- so high

they liked to touch the barn roof.
I always liked to play
in the fortress the bales made,
like the castles and forts
in the picture book on Grandma's shelf

in the parlor. Pa and Grandpa
worked all day getting in the hay,
and when the day was done
they would sit in the parlor
and take turns drinking from the jug

on the shelf. After a while they would
start singing and cracking jokes
and acting kind of foolish,
and Grandma would holler at them
and tell them to act their age,

and when they got all tuckered out
Grandma would put the cork back in
the jug and put it back on the shelf.
One time I was out playing in the barn,
and I heard voices in the hayloft,

sort of a rustling sound, and now and then
a giggle, and I looked and saw
Big Sis and the farmhand playing
in the hay, and they saw me and
yelled at me, telling me to go away

and leave them alone. Later on
I saw where Big Sis was getting kind of fat
in the belly, and I said something
about it, and Big Sis got all mad
and threw her milk cup at me.

Pa said something like that's what happens
when girls make hay on their own,
and Grandma said that ain't
the right kind of hay to make,
and Big Sis got kind of red in the face.

I only ever saw Pa and Grandpa
make the hay, and when I asked them
what it all meant, they only chuckled,
and told me to go out and play.
I guess maybe I'll figure it out someday.