Summers past

Piglets suckling on the sow

Aunty milking at the cow

Cockerel crowing in the barn

Uncle spinning us a yarn.
Lifting water from the well

Sunday morning churchyard bell

Golden corn and tilling fields

By the pleasant pasture yields.
On the bog, drink cold tea

A place you always want to be

Scent the beauty in the air

Freedom captured now so rare.
Just a memory now alas

Different era, different class

Softly spoken soothing words

Too busy now to hear the birds.

©J.Poet7