Summer’s Grain

Bristled waving heads folded and cut,

chaff flung in a dusty trail,

a man in a hat over the wheel;

face painted in dust and sweat;

summer’s strain, summer’s grain –

turning in ever-smaller circles –

tea in an enamel billy, red seeded

jam spilling off scones.

A boy in shorts running, open hands

thudding over stalks, dreaming

when he can wear a green felt hat

with a red feather in its band,

tip it down as the hot wind rolls off the hills,

little river of sweat cutting a trail.

A crop rocking in its bed.

 

[A re-written version of an older poem posted here]

2 thoughts on “Summer’s Grain”

  1. A workers picture painted good here…with the face of dust and sweat hung over the wheel, spilling jam and a billy pot full for a break well earned. This reads like the boy’s there has a memory. Nice!

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