Have you ever done enjoyable work,
But toward supper time,
After a long, long day,
A satisfaction sets in,
Almost a fullness,
A readiness to stop for the day...
I know this feeling.
I understand Robert Frost's poem,
"After Apple Picking."
I loved haying on the ranch,
But after 14 hours' roaring up and down
Long alfalfa fields,
I was content,
Ready to shut down for the day,
Ready to climb down from the old John Deere,
Ready to walk, dusty, to the old truck
Waiting in growing darkness.
I recall listening for sounds of night coming on:
Crickets rasping against the cooling day,
Nighthawks' screeching, veering for insects,
Soul-mourning cries of coyotes,
All teamed against the ghosts of day:
Tractor's roaring echo in my ears,
Thumping memory of lurching over clods,
Dust clogging my itching eyes and throat....
The old tractor, too, was content
Cooling in the twilight.
Contentment, Cooling, Farming