................AND WHAT ABOUT A POEM TO END ON.............
THE TILLER
Strange to find
a piece of farm machinery
abandoned in the woods
and curious to know
how it got there
given that the only approach
was a narrow ramblers’ path.
It was of a size
and would have needed
a tractor or such like
to tuck it away avoiding trees.
It wouldn’t have been easy
and clearly it had been there
for some time weathered in rust.
Judging by its curved frame
and uniformed spines
I would say it was a tiller;
its powerful claws used
to break the earth
in readiness for the planting
of some seasonal crop.
But here it was
the skeleton of an animal
a whale-like creature
reduced to bare ribs
and ensnared by clinging
undergrowth as though
to prevent escape.
It was only
a piece of machinery
its job done and broken
yet I was moved by its fate.
A loyal servant, it deserved better
At the very least a dignified clearing
where one could plant flowers.
Ken Bevan
