Image borrowed from Bing
A Summer Ride
Midday, and the wind is holding its breath.
Children's bicycles half-hidden in tall grass by the roadside.
Golden fields stretching as far as the eye can see,
crops reaching into the sun-blind sky, towards ripening.
Larks rise, trilling their joyous song,
cicadas shrill for attention in the drowsy air.
Blackbirds cease strutting
and snails are safe from the thrush's beak.
The children rest, damp roots of clover cooling tired bodies;
cornflowers, wild thyme and poppies licking faces
hot from childish efforts,
the scent of sage sweetening their breath.
Their ride was long and arduous.
Lanes disappearing in the flicker of advancing day
the shimmer of blue hills calling for greater deeds,
to reach a foreign land, a village far beyond.
The day has reached the hour between dream and waking,
white clouds stand still up high,
their graceful dance across the sky for now at rest.
The silent heat of noon falls heavy on the land.
Ursula White
aka: Friko
Posted over on her site Friko's World
Listed as #22 over on Magpie Tales 72
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