Some of you said you like to see my poems come round again, so I hope you enjoy this old friend, which is one of my favourites.
The combines are busy at the moment, and although the swifts left Wye a couple of weeks ago (or longer), I saw some at Pegwell Bay yesterday, feasting before their flight to the Congo, which was a very pleasant surprise.
Wishing you a peaceful harvest time.
SHE starts with August gathered sheaves,
Whose golden stems lie over eaves,
Where many harvest homes ago,
The bread was baked, from seed well sowed.
THE laden boughs all fruits have dropped,
And follows now the winding hop,
That sliced to earth by sickles sharp,
Is wound around the moving cart.
AND swallows with their summered young,
Have preened their feathers and begun,
Their flight from cool September days,
To find the distant, warmer rays.
OCTOBER breathes slow alchemies,
O'er rustling Spring's now well-worn sleeves,
The jewelled blackberry hedgerow high,
Is plucked by bird, and passer-by.
HER Midas touch will now soon brush,
All that May weaved green and lush,
All meadows mown, all harvests home,
And swooping swallows southwards flown.
Thanks for visiting Healing Poetry at HealingGardens dot click.
25 viii 2017