Warm rain won’t drive us
Away. What if everyone
Is imaginary?
Warm rain won’t drive us
Away. What if everyone
Is imaginary?
The first old hayrick
To stand here for forty years
A piece of history
What if we just stopped
And basked in breathless beauty
Would the world just end?
Am I still waiting
For every star to align
To live my real life?
Mow swathes from the thatch
Rake them into long windrows
Stack up the hayrick
Misty Yorkshire fog
From fox’s tail to cock’s foot
Rescue sheep’s fescue
Good morning meadow
The dew is wet, the sun shines
Let’s make hay today
Behind these photos
Lies the dirty world of truth
We are parasites
As I try to read
The story of the landscape
I look for my place