Hay made

late haymaking
between stormy showers
wild tangles shorn, burrows
exposed to night


Eve of the cut

Purple light and the bruised sky,
dusk falls with the rustle of silken rain
on the golden-stalked meadow,
the last silent cry before the cut.

Dusk falls with the rustle of silken rain
from the purple-bruised clouds.
Night creeps from hedge-shadows

on the golden stalked meadow,
tomorrow to be shorn, scattering raindrops
and the purple flush of the storm-sky,

the last silent cry before the cut
of scythe, the refuge fallen in swathes
of insect flight and voracious swallows.

Hay raking

Haymaking was put off for three weeks which is what I wanted, to let all the wildflowers finish and set seed first. The hay is now all raked into an interesting geometrical pattern like a Neolithic temple site, waiting for the baler to come.

This is the west meadow looking south

west looking south

East meadow looking west. The red and white tape is to cordon off an area where saplings are planted.

east meadow looking west

The south section looking up towards the house.

south section

The part I like best, the bottoms where the willows are, a section about 20 metres by 200 metres that isn’t mown and is just left to its own devices.

unmown beneath willows

Haiku for the longest day

For Frank Tassone’s summer solstice prompt.

before mowing

the longest day

a day for mowing cutting

the year in half


all the golden stalks

the meadow

a battlefield


the gyre narrows

hawk objective probes beneath

the fallen grass


how did they know

before the engine’s rattle

that death was coming?


feather swarm glides

in untouching pattern

through the blue

Hay raking


The hay is raked in the west meadow waiting for the baler to arrive this evening. 40°C in the shade; it should dry out quickly.

hay raked3.jpg

hot air whines with

insect wings and the pounding

pulse in my ears

throbs with each solar flare flash

each belch of fiery magma


There is still about an acre of bottom land uncut, too irregular for a tractor and full of ditches and willow trees.


green air brushed

with fox tails and meadow grass

hangs still and frog-cool

in cricket silence

trickle of birdsong