Rent Poem by John Rickell

Today the wood was changed, time at a cross roads,
reluctant winter sulks, spring who has the runes
waits in silent buds as ferns sleep.
Birds songs incomplete, mates and loves play court
a few more weeks to dedicate a summer's life of nests
chicks and gaudy jay.
This field we play each day, soon to plough and furrow
barley, wheat and rye, when lambs begin to fatten
Jack on his lead to satisfy the shepherd no more to fly his tail.
I am but a sojourner...borrow every blade of grass
silver birch and bramble;
pay no rent, then no one asks should one ask, I have the price,
they will not ask too much I have had a money's worth;
invested every year in case they ask, they never have,
I doubt they ever will.