Haying Time Poem by Raymond Farrell

Today
As I sit
Under the locust tree
In the middle
Of Hangzhou
And its teeming millions
My mind drifts
Back...back..back
To Haying Time
On my grandfather's farm
In the sweltering July heat
Being the scrawniest
But most agile
Of the bunch
I was put
In the mow
To pile the bales of hay
As they tumbled off
The conveyor belt
Into the barn
A wagon load of hay
Would arrive
My uncle and his first cousin
Who had been a gunner in the war
With his Popeye bicep muscles
Would start loading the bales
Onto the conveyor belt
And they came down
Into the barn
Like an avalanche
And I buzzed around
Piling them meticulously
Like a mad bee
After the load was emptied
I would sit
Drenched in sweat
Waiting for the next load
I never got paid a nickel
Nor did I think
Of asking for pay
And if I could trade
Today for then
I'd do so in a heart beat.