We picked up hay tonight.
Such a mediocre task but filled with so much romance.
The sweet hay-smell.
The ringing laughter of the children.
The family dog, trotting behind.
The baby, delighted to “help” drive.
The moon rises with the rising of the hay on the trailer.
I drive home in the gathering dusk my fingers tingling where the ropes have rubbed them raw.
And sweet clean water from the spring washes away the memory of my aching feet.