Thoughts of Home From A House On The Hill


Crows chase croaks across the field
in a game of sound and vibes
clean air and farmyard tides
that wash over pasture and paddock.

Hay rolled tight like tobacco
light headed visions of white canvas
poured paint over white canvas
walk on to stop at the houses of the farmers.

Combine machinery and man to
form root ripping vehicles
that plough and turn up soil and hideaway
for next year’s supermarket dash

And dollar.
Money and heads and coinage will spill
over great laminated floors and blood stained kill
defrosted and slung upon tile surface-
cooked by under floor heat and watched over by under floor lover.