I marvel at green field and tree
But soon I spy light industry.
I gaze along the far skylines
At swinging arms of white turbines;
At rolling hills and charming dales
Spoilt by major roads and rails;
At masts and pylons standing tall
By meadow, moor and grey stone wall.
I see hens and how they're fed;
They cluck and peck inside a shed.
Once in the yard and strutting free,
They're now confined by lock and key.
My ears hear farm machinery
That drowns out silent scenery;
And rumbling tractors down the lane
As frightening as an aeroplane.
My country stroll is nearly done
But it hasn't really been much fun.
The hand of man is everywhere:
For wild and wondrous, look elsewhere.
*
More poems: go to book page and blog page at
www.novelsforyou.wix.com/novelsforyou
(also novels and short stories)
This short poem was written after a walk down a nearby lane on the outskirts of Kendal, Lake District.