10 July 2013

hay bales

Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
Among the fields of gold


I love it in the summer time when the fields are filled with big bales and the air smells like cut grass.  I'm going to start another weaving project with the yarn above. I can wrap it around my neck in the winter and remember these golden fields.

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