A Welsh Farmer

Wincing from the curt cold of a late-dawning and
Frosty spring morning, I go out into the fields,
Feeding the sheep I know by sight and sound
With oats, my dog Laddie at my side. Then
I set up our dozen cows for milking, thinking
About my grandpappy, who sat in that barn
Fifty years back, on a stool, milking the cows
And we had more cows then, and men to help

Then we grew our own strawberries, and our
Rhubarb, and my granny and my mother
Made our own jam. Now my wife goes to the
Supermarket to buy it, whilst I go to
The market. I took two dozen lambs today,
Fine lambs I've practically brought up
With my own hands, but I got half what I got
Last year. Aye, we're struggling now

At night I go out again with Laddie,
To take the weaker lambs and their mothers
Into the barn, and see them settle into
The straw. Outside, the sky is starry above me,
But in the west the streetlights glow, blocking
Them out, all around the new housing estate.
And though our family's been here for over a hundred
Years, I know it can't last much longer.