Barley, growing in a field.

Tree’s rustle their leaves like water running downstream…listen

then glance up; boundless blue sky laced with thin clouds

push your legs round to cycle in tandem take

a breath deep in  a smell in the air like dead fox…you will say

later you will scape sand from your scalp

taste salt on your lips, red and swollen

remember that moment when only two

of you existed- entwined, heads pillowed

on a blue ribbed towel, low waves lapping

diamond shapes sparkling on the sea your eyes…glistening

and as your whirring wheels take you home you see a sloping

field of fawn barley swaying as if to gentle harmony; like breeze 

skimming ripples on a placid lake and then you will...smile.