A final reflection from the Field Names book.
Goodbye field, I have known you for a life
And now your days are ended with a knife
Of a bulldozer blade ripping apart
Structure, roots, insects and your very heart.
My foot walked every inch of your clay
In rain, sun, wind on a foggy day,
And knew the sunken shallow water spring
And when plough shares and rock would ring.
You were contrary, awkward shaped cuss
Yet we could work together, two of us
To grow a malt barley fit for brewers
All captured now for domestic sewers.
The straying sod and the gravelly rocks,
The fling remains, seashells and old red crocks
Would tell stories whenever we would meet,
No more! Alas! But buried in concrete.
Goodbye field, we have shared precious time
At least you are remembered in a rhyme.
I wonder will the new people feel your heart
As Stephen Coyle did with a horse and cart?
John McCullen, Beamore
Judith – email@example.com