I idly brush the grass like heads

With the palm of my hand as I walk by

Feeling the feathery skin

Of unripened barley ears

Reach my fingertips

Midges busily play under large oaks

As I walk along the edge of fields

Of hard baked clay

In the summer heat

Trying to avoid falling in the ruts left by tractors

And horse’s hooves

My pullover tied

In a knot around my waist

 

The back of my neck burning red

I kick the dust and watch it fly

Then pick a long green grass shoot

And plant it in my mouth to chew

Letting it hang down

From between my teeth

Long ago I had given up

placing a blade of grass

Between my thumbs

to let out the farting rasping sound

that I found I cannot produce or the

High pitch whine which is every schoolboys

Well-rehearsed party trick

I turn my attention instead to the search

For a likely stick that will become a rapier

Or a sword

Which can usefully be employed

To beat down stinging nettles

Or take the heads of buttercups and daisies

In one stroke

 

I arrive home

And I am hot and tired my feet red and sore

A blister has formed were my sock

Has rubbed against the inside of my bumper boot

Under a toe

Despite parental warnings

I burst it

And watch the watery substance ooze out

As I sit on the floor

Tired but satisfied

With the days tramp

Along dusty shaded lanes

And broken stubbled fields of rich intent

Where with my trusty sword

Hard battles had been fought and won