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Subject: This Land

Author:
Ian Bowen (Awarded by Sasha)

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Date Posted: 17:25:25 12/07/07 Fri

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This land,
this single path
that cuts
the distance between
village and forest,
following the course
of ancient hedges;
dividing harvest meadows
into quilted pattern.

Giant hills look down,
on their own shadows;
steered by the position
of a new, drying sun
as the white noise of silence
crackles with still life.

The fiery skin
of sun on corn
bakes in burnished wonder;
blinding this euphoric walker
in summer vaults of gold.

Only I move now,
alone in this land;
strolling, almost floating
above green, gold
and carpets
of white, wild daisies.

I thought I heard
a pin drop,
before an early tractor
rumbled into life,
far off in the stress
of the commercial distance,
returning me
tumbling,
tumbling
back down to earth.

.

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