I walk the fields
The quiet fields
Where the warm dew
Had squelched between
My childish toes.
To sit beneath
The cool oak and ash
That sheltered
My adolescent dreams.
These trees stand
With leafy arms
Out streched
Like lovers;
Not in passion
But with gentle
Sighs of contentment
I watch the cows
Graze peaceful
Beside the river
Curving its way
Through furzed inches
Into the woods and beyond.
This is a holy place
Where men have worked
Close to God's Earth
Under the quiet heavens.