The Mad Farmer

 
I hear a droning in the west
faint as honey bee
does not disturb the afternoon
lying here upon my coat
lazying away the day;
no book to read and all alone
listening to the distant drone
louder now and nearer
'til high above my resting place
I saw a glint of light
and silver wings twisting
twirling, straining at the air
over in a loop it went
spinning as it soared
then all was silence
tail first it fell
in careless celebration,
falling-leaf they call it
backwards, sideways upside down
inside out no doubt
but I was dazzled by the sun,
could only guess what it had in mind.
Rasping,the engine woke again
just in time it seemed to me
scared the scattering sheep,
its wheels eager for the ground.
Round it went and back again
I sat to watch this foolish game
chasing sheep, on Saturday !
For a while the air was still
nothing to be seen, nothing heard
then with a roar and rush
to rival autumn thunder
it dived and landed in the field
double wings and twin propeller.
The silent day returned
"Hello" he said "Nice day"
took off his helmet . . .
marched to count his sheep.
A tractor I had not noticed
continued the country scene
seagulls in the furrows,
fluffy clouds returned.