Posted in Pictures, Poem, Uncategorized

On a Road to the Henge

On a Road to the Henge

London Aug 2016 -18.jpg

Was an ordinary August day,
Hot enough to crisp the hay.
Rolled and stacked,
And a bit ransacked.

A pasture of trampled summer grass;
Golden shine grappled as I pass,
Of dusty summer, the hay smelt yet;
Whittled bales, they formed a fret.

On a dusky meadow, the lambs lay;
As the sun shone, they made hay.
The penetrating wind whistled away;
Of love and joy, my music of the day.