Poetry

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As late summer
Heads towards the autumn
Great industry is evident
In the golden fields
As the tireless farmers
Gather in nature’s bounty
And come days end
The weary labourers
Tread across the fields
Once full of waving corn
The fields now adorned
With flaxen structures
These sons of the soil
Look upon the scene
With pride and relief
Pride in a job well done
And relief at finishing
While the good weather held
They head towards the village
With heads held high
And parched throats
Soon to be quenched
The entire village joins them
To celebrate the gathering
Raising a glass or two
Laughter resounding
As they watch the setting sun

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