Bales of Gold and Gentle Days

Sunlight warms the golden hay, stacked in bales that line the way, where piggy tails curl soft and sweet, in muddy paths where piglets meet. A gentle ewe with wool so white, Grazes slow from dawn to night, Her eyes like pools of quiet grace, Watch over the farm's familiar place.  Piglets tumble, squeals, and play, Snuffling ‘round  the hay’s bouquet, Their curly tails, like spiraled springs, Dance with joy as laughter sings. The ewe hums a soft lullaby, Beneath the stretch of endless sky, While hay bales guard the peaceful scene, In fields of gold and glowing green.