Haystacks which farmer made you
on the field placed so boxy
the pattern I don't recall
was he careful at all?
or did the machine just lift you
from the dirt
tear you away from your neighbors
turn and twist you
with your brothers and sisters

make you of use in the hierarchy
of supply and demand
where are you destined
looking so square and out of place
from whistling in the gentle July breeze
now chopped diced formed and squeezed

but your roots remain don't ever forget
that animal where your end
you would have met
doesn't mean its the end forever
as come spring your will sprout again
and turn the brown dirt
to shades of green
till the forceful summer
makes you pale and brittle

the farmer will stack you again
so no fear never look back
everyday a new day is rising
how long is life in your perspective
a season
or eternity