The Harrows

[Dennis N O'Brien]

A true story from the sixties

The Harrows

Our harrows to a triangle would fold,
And so they’d stay until there was the need
To work the ground and harrow in the seed;
But now as warmer days replaced the cold;
As winter’s icy grip released its hold,
The time had come to plant the fields that we’d
Ploughed well and deep to grow our summer feed,
As westward billowed clouds, and thunder rolled.

The harrows hitched – but then a shrill protest;
For there upon them woven neat and round
A wagtail and her mate had built their nest
And from it softly came a plaintive sound
As bravely parents chided on the wing;
And so we borrowed harrows all that spring.

Sonnet #9

© Dennis N. O'Brien, 2012

[Maureen K Clifford]

Well I for one am pleased you did This is lovely Dennis - every farmer has a soft side

Excellent poem and a delight to read - something from left field as well. Good on you

Cheers

Maureen

[Neville Briggs]

Well done Dennis.

[Dennis N O'Brien]

Thanks Maureen & Neville - Yes the harrows got shifted quick smart

once the young birds had left the nest.