Ode to Hay

O hay, what must I say? You make me sneeze. 
You draw me out of the house into the barn 
You reside in the loft awaiting my hands 

Down you go through the chute into the stalls 
Food now consumed fulfilling your purpose 
Sneezing those around you curse 

You are a simple ill faded color of bland 
That which once was green is dead only to give life 
Your coldness warms the empty manger upon now I reside