Hay And I Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Hay and I

Piece of hay on the waves says nothing of the scenes gone through
Does it know?
Does it feel?
I assume we can know if patient and eager; same feelings, language
“Hay knew
Much too much”
Whispery we spoke, I found hay mesmerized. I wondered, surprised.
Hay and I
Befriended
And hay talked and told me “Crazy is poet; and simple. Poets listen”
“Crazy?
I questioned.”
“They are soft like snow when falling, are water in the spring or petal”
“Am I poet? ”
My eyes open.
“Maybe not but the rest sure you share, crazy and simple, you drink…”
I enjoyed
And smiled
“Now tell me of a trip. I am told story is nothing but going-road-return.”
“Is it true?
Did not know, ”
I confirmed. Hay went on. Hay as a friend was true water-filled reservoir.
It was full.
So I swam.
Hay had seen cold and heat, rise and falls, sides to side; and dirty politics.