February 15, 2012

In the evening after bells have rung
And shadows stretch out long across the grass
And skies are peppered with the flights of birds
Descending, noisy, into barren trees

In shadow, fields awake with song.
The tiny lambs are calling to their mums.
The throaty ewes are bellowing to their young.
The ancient rites of countryside renewed.

You stop along the muddy road and think:
This. Just this, is how it all should be.
And in the time it takes to blink
The setting sun goes red across the sky

And on the lane, the cottage lights go on
And in the rooms, the people go to bed
And at the gate, you stand alone and know
This life, this sweet society of fields, is gone.