Sunday, August 31, 2014

Late From The Field

The cows came early from the pasture
And switched the flies and milled around
The water tank. A storm was coming;
Far off she heard the rumbling sound
Of thunder, and dark clouds were frowning
At her, above a darker wall.
The pigeons huddled on the barn roof;
She heard the rainbird's mournful call.
She could not bear the troubled stillness
Of air and trees; beside the gate
She stood, and hoped to see him coming
Along the lane, for he was late.
She wondered if the team had started
To run again. Had he been hurt?
She thought of things that might have happened;
A gust of wind tugged at her skirt.
Then, through a cloud of dust she saw them
The team and man far up the lane!
She caned into the wind, with splashes
Upon her cheeks-great drops of rain!
And when the horses were unharnessed
And he came to the house once more,
He thought she was afraid of thunder. . .
She clung so to him at the door.


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