I remember days long gone.
Fleeting images float in mists of memory.
Brass-bridled horses pulling ploughs,
Blinkered, nodding, patiently plodding.
Scooping fertile furrows of rich dark loam
From within an earth, at last
Emerging from its puberty.
The farmer clad in baggy dungarees
Scans the way ahead with narrowed eye.
Then, with skilful touch, his hands,
Blue-veined upon the reins,
Command the strong submissive beast
To trudge that lie and plough his chosen lane.
I remember patchwork fields,
Rustic shades of green and brown.
A calender to passing seasons of the year.
Amazed, I watched them turn to gold;
A rolling sea of ripening ears.
Then, as summer`s sun sank low
And autumn`s misty halo glowed,
The thresher and the harvesters moved in.
Rats ran helter-skelter seeking sanctuary
And only stubble stalks remained
Awaiting winter`s final icy mow.
- I remember!

updated by @fred-mcilmoyle: 10/17/17 03:03:19PM