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.