New born foal - too weak
And tall to suckle with ease
Bonds with my sweater
Newly born goat kids
Agility in goatskin
Running the ridgepole
Goats up in a tree
View pedestrians with scorn
'We don't graze, we browse! '
Cold frosty morning
Breath hangs like smoke on the air
Mucking out calf pens
My cottage lay
In the shadow of Carn Brae
Last hill in England
The bus drivers knew
My bus stop….the third gorse bush
After Henwood's haystack
Dead fox hill
So steep, so straight, so fast
Reynard's bane
Two dogs… five fields over
Waiting for the school bus
My boy's welcome home
The flooded clay-pit
Where the post-man drowned himself
Our summer playground
Our horizon was dark
Until distant St Buryan
Got it's first street light
Six miles from the sea
But when the Sou-Westerlies blew
Salt on our lips and windows
The weeping willow
Trailing it's many fingers
In the passing stream
Headache?
Chew some willow bark
Natures aspirin
Lobo, good boy's dog
Towing my son up and down
The flooded clay-pit
Lobo, water dog
Only her head showing
Surrounded by shiver ripples
Happiness for a boy
His very own dog
And a litter of puppies
We had a great zip line
Something for the kids to play on
Health and Safety… moi?
By January
Even a flooded hoof print
Would be full of frog spawn
There were wild orchids
Growing in the summer grass
Protecting thousands of tiny frogs
Guy Fawks night bonfires
A years brush-wood up in smoke
The guy, a witch, a dragon, a masterpiece
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
........memories are most interesting...great write ★