Swallows on the phone-lines

Crab tree berries turning red        
summer halfway gone        
 fecund September ripening,          
evenings early now          
fledglings on bird-tables        
rutting stags in Richmond Park          
few hedge-row trees remain        
since tractors ripped away        
branches  once a home for hawks.        
I see swallows on the wires        
messages loud and clear        
' We're on our way to Africa'        
see you all next year',        
         
Orange and gold, yellow,red        
carpets until west winds blow,        
bold  crows in the limes,        
bounce in the branches,        
Bees long since gone and       
the queen sleeps sound..     
.        
Late apples hang from drooping limbs        
cider fermenting three months,          
hop-field poles stark  and bare        
against  turbulent skies          
summer hues waiting for next year.        
         
Its waiting-now, barns are full        
sheep dogs doze in hay-lofts,        
waiting  lambs and shepherd's whistle        
spring and daffodils        
as sweating cows chew cud        
waiting for they know not what        
tractors, mud drying on tyres six feet tall        
grain driers full waiting prices to rise,        
Silence but for the wind        
snow in lanes, school buses late,        
time again to wait with sweating cows        
there is time and time enough          
time to listen waiting with the cows        
for that-we-know-not-what,save        
Santa will be here at Christmas,        
waiting with the deer in Richmond park.