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User Rating: |
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7.5
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(13
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He had driven half the night
From far down San Joaquin
Through Mariposa, up the
Dangerous Mountain roads,
And pulled in at eight a.m.
With his big truckload of hay
behind the barn.
With winch and ropes and hooks
We stacked the bales up clean
To splintery redwood rafters
High in the dark, flecks of alfalfa
Whirling through shingle-cracks of light,
Itch of haydust in the
sweaty shirt and shoes.
At lunchtime under Black oak
Out in the hot corral,
---The old mare nosing lunchpails,
Grasshoppers crackling in the weeds---
"I'm sixty-eight" he said,
"I first bucked hay when I was seventeen.
I thought, that day I started,
I sure would hate to do this all my life.
And dammit, that's just what
I've gone and done."
Gary Snyder
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Read poems about / on: hate, dark, light, night, life, horse
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Comments about this poem (Hay for the Horses
by
Gary Snyder
) |
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comments about this poem (Hay for the Horses by
Gary Snyder
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Sathyanarayana M V S
(4/30/2008 2:23:00 PM) |
this poem seems funny. but not so. It has deep undertones of what life forces on one so inevitably.
Great poem
sathya narayana
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David Motta
(1/27/2008 5:02:00 PM) |
It can be so true... Be careful... Spend your time wisely.
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Eric Paul Shaffer
(6/28/2005 1:12:00 PM) |
One of Snyder's finest funny poems: this one shows that a good ear is an essential part of recognizing poetry.
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