Heat of the June sky brings the feeling of working these fields forever.
Five o’clock doesn’t even bring in the shadows for cool space, neath the barn door or above it on it’s second floor.
It holds the heat, poured in through the galvanized roof, and bathes the hand as if he were it’s tender, or at the least a soul stuck in hell, stacking those square bales and each one wringing the wet outta him, as his blue shirt turned white with the work holding those two hooks in his hands.
Cows and calves would hold a place, young horses and the old mare, would stand under the tree, gathering each piece of shade to cool their backs, drinking warm water from the troughs.
The singing strains of the cicadas bring the evening on, for the ice cold water in the dipping can, to be tapped by those workers preparing in this heat for winters blow. The kerchiefs round their necks catching the dust and grime of their labors.
All these have done their time, and caring for their land, and garden and barns, had passed away with the sun, setting once more on this old place, the place of work and sweat, and protection for all who had been there.
Ralph Peck
Photo by Ralph Peck
South Coffeyville, Oklahoma
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