Haying

I have absolutely no memory of driving this tractor! But there I am in my favorite plaid shirt. 

Mom is taking the picture; that's her shadow in the lower left. Dad is in front of the car. 

Susan stands tall on top of the bales and Richard is there, too. Marjory is walking toward Mom 

in a little red sweater. Robert, Richard and John are on the trailer of hay behind the car. 

We are all together in the golden past.

GETTING CLOSE TO HAYING

On an early summer's day the clover blossoms
silently received the bumblebee on a farewell party.
It is done with dignity
and the bumblebee says thank you for everything that has passed.

Across fields waiting for their moment
the melodious voices of children follow the wind
as when a psalm is sung.

The cuckoo is now silent,
It was heard further and further away each day.
Towards the end it sounded like a church bell.

Harry Martinson
Translated by Lars Nordstrom

The Procession of Memories; selected poems 1929-1945,
Wordcraft of Oregon, 2009, page 111.

In my quest for more Swedish poetry because I love Transtromer so much, I found Harry Martinson.
He is recommended by Robert Bly and was the recipient of a shared Nobel Prize (with Eyvind Johnson)  in 1974. This volume contains previously untranslated poems. You will be delighted to learn that the Swedish for "church bell" is kyrkklocka!"

Last night the Internet was broken; this is a makeup post.