Weekend Memory

In the cornfield the horse drawn reaper stood steady, the vacation crew were up and ready. The days were long,recent clouds had gone. Yellow beams on heavy harvest food, the lark departing with her second brood. Field mice scattered ,their nests torn and forlorn . Our stooked up sheaves midst growing clover, unbalanced and toppling over. The clock ticked slow,the field seemed to grow, eleveneses a dim distant view. A working break ,to seek a half crown for the next week, somewhere sunny and sublime ...seemed good idea at the time. Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2007