The Ploughman Poem by Keith Shorrocks Johnson

The team moves forward taut to harness
As I the teamster brace to join the toil -
Good as gold my shires named Tom and Jess,
Their hooves hold firm to break the yielding soil.

An honest ploughman under God's great sky
Turning the earth as the shadows lengthen
Each furrowed meridian straight as a die -
Readied to sow when the sun's rays strengthen.

Come the headland and we will take a break
And I'll sit by the hawthorn hedge and eat
From bread and cheese and apple and cake
Gifting crusts and cores for an equine treat.

More than content with the lonely furrows
We'll share the fields with our joys and sorrows.