They lay in the hay.

Hidden amongst
loud clacking

various animal sounds
lots of squeals and grunts

that created
an aural rural landscape.

A horse neighed
a field away.

They made hay
whilst the sun shined.

I’m not at liberty
to say

what went on in the hay

only that
what

got laid

was found
(two nice brown ones)

stuck to her behind
ruining her best Sunday skirt.

A lot of eggs
had gotten broken

(a lot of other hearts
were broken)

and the other girls were
insanely jealous

all wanted to know
all...the details.

They why
of how.

The then
of when.

The what
0f where.
And It sure as hell annoyed
a lot of chickens as well.

Dónall Dempsey

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/making-an-omelette-in-1942-for-scarlett/