Pitching hay

Pitching hay

from the swung rhythm

of his strong back and hips

he forks

the rain-dulled stack

of last season's

gathered grass

and for a second

each flung sheaf of straw

ignites the sky in long soft silent

explosions of yellow fire

ageless and essential

he labours at the secret clockwork

of the fields before the birds

he knows where sun is hid

and on the fork's long claw

pitches out the light from dark

into a white harvest

                                    of the dawn.

 These poems are from my new collection IN THE APRICOT DARKNESS (view the cover and contents below in my recent posts). They are now being published individually, daily under 'recent posts' on my blog and will be available shortly as an eBook that can be read online or downloaded for free.