Cornwall's Arable Sheaves

 

Arable sheaves bow down of wheat, 

ripe-tilled from the grass-golden field,

linnets, hanging on the dwarfed sky,

meadow browns, tuned to pheasant's eye,

wild poppies with deep black hearts sing.

Lapwing stirring through the barley,

ringlets land on shepherd's-needle,

here, my brown hare runs by and by,

arable sheaves. 

Cabbages, commas, cirl buntings,

gatekeepers’ charlock pollen stings,

the small toadflax host marbled whites,

Stone-curlew peck at harvest mice,

bright purple viper's-bugloss rings,

arable sheaves.

Emily Isaacson