Under the Fagus Tree

As the leaves brown, They float to the ground, Under the fagus tree. Animals sing out, Whilst new plants sprout, And the crows around flee. Jump across the bales of hay, Until the sun sets for the day, Knowing the jobs are now put to rest. Paddocks stocked up, Like the brim of a cup, A good stir happens often. The crops have drowned, And flooded all around, It's all past the extent. Wispy clouds above the grove, Staring upwards as we drove, Wishing for our accepted request.