It was said by some that the church organ

played of its own accord

behind locked doors with no one inside

to do the playing,

but that was when a hesitant wind

sprang across the stubbles of wheat

stretched the branches of trees to harps

and the leaves of hedges with a - rustling

like an ordinance. 

 

Suffolk byways keep their secrets well

and backs are turned against such a wind

seeking homes with their known tunes

of logs burning to ward off the unwelcome

in furrows and trenches

where they travel as only they can know.