Autumn

 
The field is green again
Wheat stored and maybe sold
The straw baled ...stacked for winter
Now the turn of clover large leaved hybrids
and the tiny wild,  white flowers
tempting bee and fly.
  
We walk the field along the tractor tracks
Stir up the pheasant hiding in the hedge,
I have no gun tonight so let's be friends.
  
I whistle Jack chasing rabbits in the wood,
don't think he wants to catch them
if so he'll never make a living.
Come, walk with me, leaves are dry
the first in weeks........
Two more the clover will be tall !
waiting for the reaper.
  
Time for home and supper
through the woodland, to the road,
passed quiet ferns in fading green
Bramble patch, no fruit this year
blame the frost for that.
  
Dark by half passed eight.
The sun sulking in the trees
(The worst summer he remembers)
praying for the winter.
This summer has been hard work,
Better luck next year.