A Million Seeds

Remember the meadows of summers long ago,

At harvest time where grasses grew in golden hue,

Where poppy's scarlet silken petals spread,

Tall sun disc daisies and shining lions heads

A million seeds did sow, to float, then land, then grow.

Remember the old ways of August summer days,

Where the brown hare ran the golden harvest furrow length,

Great horses snoozed, stood with patient strength,

amid the waiting rows of standing barley stooks,

where the swallows swooped below the skylark song,

And labourers sang as they passed the harvest ale along.

Remember that place to lay, below golden towering heights,

To stare up at the clouds where Martins flew in crowds,

To hum with bees and dance with painted butterflies,

Tease grasshoppers into jumps, to see how high they rise,

To meet a gentle roe deer doe and pause to say hello.

Remember that blue sky golden morn near Lammas time,

A brightly painted green top, beside the hedge did stop,

Remember how you longed to know where they had been,

the country lanes, the villages, the life they'd seen,

You longed to hear the tales, singing songs along the way,

Born to travel they did not stay, for tomorrow they were gone.

Remember to store these precious, sunshine days away,

To keep the country ways, the things the old folk say,

Remember to make the tales to tell, the songs to sing,

The lessons learned, the wisdom gathered in like hay,

To share, to spread, another time, another day,

A million seeds to sow, to float, to land, to grow.

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