Poem - Harvest at Warmington

HARVEST

Thanks to Steve Turner for this photo and poem based on his grandfather’s descriptions of working on America Farm.

You worked in summer fields that all had words;

Balaclava; Bean Hill; Ash Pole; Lee.

Horses for carts were tethered to a tree.

The clash of steel scattered rabbits and birds.

Scything blades sliced stalks that tumbled as straw

While grain was scooped into hessian sacks

That strong farm-boys strained to heave on their backs

For the sake of an extra shilling or more.

Mother brought tea and some freshly baked bread

That you ate as you laid back on a stook.

The white clouds looked like weather from a book

As they scudded high over your head.

At church, you returned a sheaf and some dough

As thanks to him from whom all blessings flow.

 

Steve Turner:  music journalist, poet and biographer.


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