in this field

in this sunny damp and cornered field
I tread the margins of the coming yield

a farmer’s hope for summer harvests
his cash crops sold to hungry markets

and find myself by a wooden gate
its surfaces moss and lichen decorate

long abandoned some long time ago
the surrounding hedge now overgrown

like this footpath I dared to rediscover
to dwell awhile whilst nature chatters

the sun well past its point of no return
taking with it the day’s unconcern

there’s nothing much left here to see
except perhaps a slightly swaying tree

that in the late afternoon growing breeze
is gently urging me to move on please

and leave the secrets I have found
upon this green and giving ground

in this sunny damp and cornered field
I tread the margins of the coming yield

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