by Bea Garth, copyright 2020
The sunlight trails
over a stand of sunflowers
their floppy heads nodding
across the way
while we are examined
by a group of steer and heifers
black bodies on a field of green,
teats and haunches sway slowly
when they begin to move off
as we turn, at the lane’s edge,
to reach through the tangled bushes
for the purple-ripe loganberries.
Categories: poem by Bea Garth, Uncategorized
Such a sweet poem bea
Glad you like it Moe. It was about a pastoral scene I saw when visiting a good friend (whom I think you’d love!) up on an island in the Columbia River.