Working Hard

The gusty hot winds of south Texas have reminded me of those years long ago when summer arrived early, and so did summer work.  Outside jobs that nobody wanted to do usually paid a little more, and I took a few on the promise of a few cents extra per hour.  Our burning sugar cane fields have spread ash and smoke over the Rio Grande delta of late leaving most of us coughing and sneezing.  I was skinny back then, but I have no desire to try that weight loss program again.

I was a teacher

my salary was meager

I spent the summers

hauling hay.

The Texas sun

was searing at dawn

when I rose to see

if my hay truck

would start.

I climbed in the cab.

looked at the ground.

The truck had no floorboard

just blue smoke and sound.

The hay fields were strewn.

Square bales of alfalfa.

Heavy to lift,

tough to inhale.

We stacked them high

on the flatbed behind us.

One hundred and twenty

at twelve cents a bale.

We made for the barn.

A loft with no air flow.

Sweating and stacking

and swatting the wasps.

The scene was repeated

as long as the sun shone.

Then we, and the truck

coughed our way home.

Dennis Price

A poet who reads his verse in public may have other nasty habits.
  - Robert Heinlein