New Deer Concerto Poem by Sheena Blackhall

August. Sun's a kettledrum on high
Hitting the right notes, solo, in the sky
While underground things knit and mesh and settle
The summer heat keeps barley on its mettle

Between the rustling fields, tall foxgloves stand
Like sticks of bell-chimes. Summer rules the land
Wind turbines turn like gleaming swimmer's arms
Slicing through blue. The ditch yields up its charms

The clouds turn purple with a great crescendo
As wind and rain beat down, drum-tap staccato
Both meadow-grass and birch reverberate
The summer storm sweeps in with regal state

Vetch. thistle, pit-a-pat with muffled beats
And like the milk that spurts from a dam's teats
Rain water gurgles down the furrow's throat
And drenches turtle dove and sharp-fanged stoat

Night, and the shadow play of darkening leaves
Dances upon the wall beneath the eaves
Then biting midges lose their vampire zest
And butterflies snap shut their wings in rest

High in the Heavens, the lunar galleon
Breasting the cloud banks like a graceful swan
Looks down as creatures wearied by the day
Turn a blind eye to sight and drift away

The farm stretches out and takes its ease
The farmer, wife, the crops, the honeybees
Each barley head like harp strings silent falls
Breath slows, and limbs turn limp. A barn owl calls