Sunday, 6 May 2012

Hay Days

Pushing the hay
Stacked up against the ground
We rolled it
We pound it
We watched it mould
Into something of old

Sheltered us from the cold and rain
Sheltered from voices of words
We just did not want to hear
Hideouts for Indians and chieftains alike
Tunnels were built to hold us like arms of nature’s warmth

Spinning it like large wool machines
All we had was out hands to fold it between
Along came the apples that fall from the trees
The half eaten ones crumbled by bees

Running along and climbing half scraped knees
We pushed ourselves racing through cycles of life
We enjoyed those days
Under the sun summer haze

Slight breeze pushed itself through the warm moisten air
Clothes flew along the skyline lair
Butterflies grabbed pollen from the flowers centres
Suckling its inner breath of scent

Flying away in delightful dance
Sitting by the riverside gathering daisies in a trance
Flies tip toe along the top of the water top
Almost doing kind of hop

Steam swelters over the horizon hill
Broken empty pockets of dandelion
Brothers playing music on his mandolin
Don’t know if he has quiet got it yet
Until he does I won’t hold my breath

As the evening and night closes in
We sit on the white washed fence
And chat for hours until it is time
For us to go in

Tucked up in bed
Cosy to our toes
And will do it all again
Maybe some adventure
Who knows  

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