Today the field is yellow

 
We've had four days of rainless sun.
after weeks of rain and cold
the land is dry as bone.
Last week fields were green
impatient farmers standing at the gate
combines in the yard, greased and ready
drivers in the pub and dreams of over-time.
The ditch running through the wood
beneath the sleeper bridge,
Once a drink for Jack, now muddy, black.
"No! Jack, out"..... too late,
dirty paws back home.!
All changed today,
today the field is yellow....
for the farmer gold........
combines drench the air with dust,
farmers-lung..........beware!
Rows of straw dry in the sun
waiting to be baled and stored for bedding,
or burnt in power-station furnace.........
no more smoking fields,no hedges set on fire.
Now we can walk the field again,
thirty acres, maybe more
for Jack to stretch his legs
through stubble soon to green again,
pheasants gleaning, waiting for the gun
and dogs like Jack . . . .for sport....
September soon, bring out the rusty plough,
brambles in the wood sloes in the hedge
hips-and-haws for jam.
crab-apple-jelly for Christmas.