Root Beer Floats

Root Beer Floats

Smell of hay,
taste of dirt,
day with cousins,
but a hard day’s work.

Wind slaps faces,
bodies drip sweat,
hay’s been baled,
our rewards await.

Ride is rocky,
giggles at each bump,
nothing better than
Dad’s pick-up truck.

Chewing on hay,
no words said,
dreaming of coolness,
forgetting our aches.

Jerking to a halt,
throwing us out,
legs scramble for pay
in small farm house.

Eyes glaze
at frosty mugs,
crisp and cool,
beckoning hands.

Vanilla pleasure
drips slowly in,
calling our names saying,
“Job well done.”

Soda pop fizzes,
dances and teases,
restraint disappearing,
desire overtaking.

Grimy hands encircle,
cracked lips touch,
parched tongue tastes
the heavenly pay.

Brain freezes,
memories revealed,
hard work plus root beer floats,
perfect equation.