Staunch workhorse
Solid, dependable
Never glamorous or racy
Trundling through seasons
Year after year.
Drawing the plough
Harrowing the furrow
Dragging the hay rake
Combustion engine
Pumping away.
Red Farmall
Green John Deere
Loyalties, generations deep
Billowing exhaust
Into thin morning air.
Slow-moving beast
Taking on earthy hues
Sinking into the acreage
Overcome by time
Finally idled.
Melissa Shaw-Smith 
I know how he feels.
Love this. Tractors have a special place in my heart. 🙂
Thanks! What’s not to love about tractors.
Nice poem, do you own a tractor? I like like your new picture, Woman and the Landscape.
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Thanks, Susan. Nope. Never had a tractor, but as I drive around the countryside I’ve always got my eye out for a handsome looking old beast.
Great pics. I can smell the second mowing drying.
Glad you enjoyed them. Yes, late summer hay has a whole different scent to early summer hay–much richer, like a good honey.
Thanks for my ‘like’.
The poem reminds me of Boxer in ‘Animal Farm’, except that he didn’t get the chance to ‘idle away.’
Good comparison. I often think of tractors as being beast-like.