The harvest barley stands now in crooked stooks,
impatiently Vulcan waits and stokes his fiery forge.
Hark, Goosefair time approaches fast,
excited children pick the conker and the blackberry.
Under heavy sapphire skies young schoolgirls dance,
corn dollies jiggle from their belts.
As asters bloom, seven becomes nine,
And without a nod the stubble burns.
© Graham Sherwood
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