Field Stories

My fictitious (but firmly based in the actual) day has 410 miracle moments noted now. Mr has constructed a go-cart to bring wood up from the fields, as we can't afford a quad, the ground is often very boggy and the paths are growing in faster than we can clear them. Plus, the cart is massive fun. The ash tree at the field entrance has grown more rapidly than expected. The wheelbarrow is still useful for smaller jobs, and the go-cart is harder to explain in four lines, hence the wheelbarrow is rolled out here. 

401

Handles lifted, the wheelbarrow trundles

Under the solid bay tree, under the tangle

Of wild rose busy lacing a bower over

An old dumped heap of empty things

402

The ash tree sapling we talked of

Digging up is thickening into

Firewood, the roots are

Too deep for spadework

403

Boy will be dragging exercise books

From his bag, ready to learn facts

Processes and the sardonic

Exchange of wit

404

Dog reads the scents

They tell her field stories

Tales of the fox and pheasant

Who had who for dinner

           

405

Now we have witnessed one

Yellow leaf, the crackles of hot colour

In the canopy are leaping fast

Turning on like strings of fairy lights

406

Mud is parched, in ridges, even

Edging to dust, how it does in the

Dry days of summer, when my feet

Are always powdered brown

407

As we walk I enjoy the thought

Of disclosing my droll impulsive purchase

A brandy bottle held in a miniature replica

Wooden cannon, to be brought out after dinner

408

Sunshine, when you are smiling

You are part of it, molecules of

Vivacious clement illumination

Bustling through the grass

409

Sometimes in sadness the sun will

Reach out to you like kind arms

Shadows in full view, the reversals

Laid down, sharply defined

410

Twig ends of branch stacked

Have a natural inclination to form

A sphere, like a roll of tumbleweed

Eager to bounce into play