The hay rake
by Kate Barnes (poem from Writers Almanac)
One evening I stopped by the field
One evening I stopped by the field
to watch the hay rake
drawn toward me by two black, tall, ponderous horses
who stepped like conquerors over the fallen oat stalks,
light-shot dust at their heels, long shadows before them.
At the ditch the driver turned back in a wide arc,
the off-horse scrambling, the near-horse pivoting neatly.
The big side-delivery rake came about with a shriek—
its tines were crashing, the iron-bound tongue groaned aloud—
then, Hup, Diamond! Hup, Duke!
and they set off west,
trace-deep in dust, going straight into the low sun.
The clangor grew faint, distance and light consumed them;
a fiery chariot rolled away in a cloud of gold
and faded slowly, brightness dying into brightness.
The groaning iron, the prophesying wheels,
the mighty horses with their necks like storms
—all disappeared;
nothing was left but a track
of dust that climbed like smoke up the evening wind.
