A Treasure of Spring

While hunting high, back on the ridge
I could see far ‘cross the way,
To how a farmer spent his time
Like any other day.

I watched him climb, not breaking stride.
I watched his walk, intent in view.
He seemed to be, at least to me,
Not sure of what to do!

His climb would pause, from place to place
Not sure of what he’d done.
But then, that’s when, I realized
In each place, where he’d come.

At one place, was a cow and calf
Well hid, within a hollow.
He stopped and dropped, some hay and left
A different way to follow.

Now and then, he stopped to work
To touch up here and there.
He seemed to know, which way to go,
To add, small bits of care.

I watched him walk, from end to end
And by a short stone wall.
Reaching down, he touched the ground
And cradled something small.

As this farmer turned to go,
There lying on the ground,
A paper cup that he picked up
A treasure he had found.

I watched him, as his walk did end,
To Milady, waiting there,
And that was when she received from him
Spring’s first flower for her hair.