Sunlight and shadows intertwined ..
sunlight’s shadow was passing the time
on the old stone-wall and grey sundial.
Still moments of memory clung like moss,
imbuing the hours with a faint sense of loss
as of old oaks at last leaf-fall,
gnarled trees bare of leaves that yearned for the Spring
when buds would appear like fresh hopes blossoming.
I hear echoes …
the clang of the plough of an earlier time
when iron struck flint;
the jingle of brass on browband and harness;
hooves strained in furrows of mud ..
effort and sweat in the steep incline.
Yet, then as now, as a missel-thrush sang;
green blades of grass would thrust through the snow,
blackthorn would flower with white coronets
in the threadbare hedgerow.
Above baked earth or flood skylarks ascended;
Under blue skies poppies in cornfields
would be Monet blended ..
and when the moon of the harvest hung bright as the sun
glinting on sheaves,
the old trees would soon meet Autumn again
with the imperceptible rustle
of first falling leaves.