Saturday, September 1, 2012

summer's end

His field is bare.
The cows have eaten it to dust
which blows in spirals on the breeze.
Now, he walks them
over the hill
to a long field of wheat stubble
which drapes itself
all the way to the village.

He stands out,
his white shirt
against the pale golds and browns
of summer.

A muted sound
of wooden tongues against bronze,
the cows' bells dong.
They move slowly
mowing the final stalks
in the beating sun.
But, at last, there is evidence of change.

The fig leaves rustle dryly
and the dew in the mornings
lies like diamonds in the brambles.
We shift gear from summer.

The cows move slowly uphill
as the sun, that gaseous ball,
lowers itself to the toothy horizon.
We wave, the cowman and I.


  1. Lovely images. I can see this scene. The second to last stanza has an especially beautiful feel to it.

  2. That is such a relaxing sound, hearing cowbells jangling, a bit like wind chimes. This has such a relaxed, lazy, warm feel to it. And, I love the final wave you share.
    A really lovely read.

  3. You have really established a wonderful sense of 'place' in this poem, working the wordle words in so cleverly that they are not noticed and giving us scents as well as sounds to boot. Ah, the sun - 'gaseous ball(sneaky substitution - ha ha). Nice.

  4. You have captured a very ordinary moment in time and made it lovely and memorable! I love your last stanza and the use of gaseous. And I love that last line. A truly magnificent poem!

  5. I liked this very much, made my think of my Uncle Fred's farm...a lovely place to visit as a child, and though it no longer exists, an lovely place to visit again today.

  6. I love the last two stanzas, Veronica. All of it actually, but they sang to my spirit. This is a piece I will revisit. I agree with Mary on the sense of place you paint. I want to sit and caw with the crows, encouraging fall to open.

  7. Beautifully painted end of season scene. The addition of the sound of cow bells was perfect.

  8. oh I love this poem, for some reason I find it comforting.
    your words gently paint a picture and the wave at the end
    between you two is wonderful.

  9. I love the vignette you've painted here. A journey well crafted by the difficult words. A wonderful read, Veronica!