The First Cutting Poem by Jay Loring

Green...everywhere the earth is budding
forth in vernal hues. My senses are alive, anxious
to shake off the dull sameness of winter.

The sights, the sounds, the rich scents of
wild onion, the pungent smell of manure.

My ears dulled only slightly by the muffs
- to reduce the roar of the tractor
and the whirring of the mower

- hear the changing pitches of the mower
blades, still with last year's edge on them,
as they tug and tear at the occasional tall
clumps, groaning, letting me know that
they need a date with the grinding wheel.

My eyes strain to take it all in, as if it is
the first time I've ever seen this beauty
and may never see it again.

The land with its graceful curves ebbs and flows
across the hilltop, skirted by the trees standing
guard over the sharp drop off to the valley below,
rises and falls before me inviting me ever onward
...just one more time around...well, perhaps just
one more...this time for sure...

By the end of the long summer, this will
be a chore, but now, in this moment, it is
a glorious and solemn show of force...
a 30-horse power victory dance...
Old Man Winter has been defeated!
Spring is here at long last!

As I bounce up and down on the tractor
seat, taking it all in, I am humbled and
blessed...somewhere in my youth or childhood,
I must have done something good...
and I thank God.