And all the defeated days of summer
Will turn the sky over in their hands like a stone.
With a handful of earth and a handful of air
You will look across the barley,
Still small and damp in the afternoon gloom,
And groan at the thunderheads on top of the Downs.
“Ash before the oak and we shall have a soak.”
“Oak before ash, we only have a splash.”And all the endless days of summer
Will burn blue and brown in the searing sun.
You will stand on the rise above the fields
And just notice the rooftops
Glinting above the massive barley.
The wind will stroll back and forth like a farmer.
“Oak before ash, we only have a splash.”
====================© October 1979