The Scythe's Ring Across the Fields

Sitting watching a June summer king establish his reign over hazy hills and dusty dales, I could just hear a sharpened scythe's ring across green fields cutting away at the corn, With the hustle and bustle of the annual hay-harvesters bringing home a brand new season, Happy sunburned workers work the open fields gazing skywards smiling at the noonday sun. Hay hangs out to dry in the trees of the narrow footpath's and down haw thorny little lanes, Everything now prepared and Mr.Summer rolls up his sleeves working to help with harvesting, Each person delighting in deep cool grass in the shaded part an abstract of lovely flowers, Then paddle in a cool stream washing the chaff dust from feet thus ending a hard days work. The shadows of leaves dance along the streams a silhouette waltzes upon the silvery water, Lovely azure crowfoot salutes from a bank to a forget-me-not an old friend from last year, A purple compfrey dips its leaves to sweeten the water joined by a warm and gentle breeze, The birds sing from the trees and in the hedgerows while the nightingale tweets a sad tune. On trees chestnuts begin to grow and acorns young and green sitting in their little cups, The nuts from the hazel and the apples on trees in orchards promise a ripe autumn harvest, Gooseberries for pies, currants and strawberries ripen growing in the hedges of old lanes, June has taken his fair turn making spring shoots grow strong, ready for the later fruits. The cuckoo departs and glow worms emerge on a summer's night and glows a tiny little glow, Along heath and over the meadows across landscaped fields dotted with pretty wild flowers, The June summer heat gives strength to nature making grass lime green next to red poppies, As the summer harvest quietens the work nearly done people rest and reflect on golden mead's.