June morning

Trousers damp at knees and ankles,
thigh high young green stalks of wheat,
path of cracked clay slick with dew-grass,
swallows chatter on overhead wires,
a squadron of swifts scream overhead,
two bare trees groan with starling-fruit,
poppies gleam vermilion silk,
purple flags the proud iris,
roses ramble round the porch,
the air thickens with mock orange,
on Church Street corner a small brown deer
greyhound-size just standing there,
ponies and donkey lie in buttercups,
a skylark bubbles its song through the air.