Straw and thistle thick fields.
Sun warm road where I first tasted clover's
purple honey. Sweet breeze
rode up and over the rise.
My world fenced in a muslin mile,
attic cool.

Summer of cherry and apple shade,
creaking swing of laughter
and canvas hammock damp.
Captain's wheel nailed to a tree
to navigate acres of bright yellow.
Windmills repeat away for miles.

1980 John Goss