A mighty Carob tree tries to make an arch across the lane,
it only manage a half one trucks cut its branches short.
In a field nearby a farmer has planted beans
colourful plastic bags on a line keep birds away.
There used to be a scarecrow in the field a pathetic sight,
mice nested in his stomach and a thieving raven stole his eyes.
The end came when a tramp took his coat
and his torso flew away in a storm.
The mice sought refuge under a pile of rocks
and are protected by a mild mannered snake
which only eat three of them a week
and that’s alright mama,
mice breed fast and can’t count.
A boy of ten balances on the shadow of a telephone cable
that crosses the lane; he focus gravely never looks up
my father doesn’t recognise the old man who’s watching him.
The sun slips behind a cloud
and changes from gold lamé into a purple night gown
it’s time to go home light the fire,
dwell upon the day and let it gently pass into the mythical land of memories.