Whilst all around, our cares we tend,
a sheaf of corn catches glinting eye,
no yoke to bear, no toil and strife,
a golden prize is there to take,
dark skies above, a listless wind,
two dogs bark with tales to tell,
a distant train pulls iron and steel,
little belly starts to twitch, a yawn, a scratch,
a nose to sniff,
a thousand years is fuel indeed,
for spindle legs to run the course,
over twigs and stones, the gauntlet thrown,
a heavenly morsel to be found,
Through the window a furrowed brow,
sleep must mask the answers sought,
farmer pens his sums with haste,
whilst out in the field the conqueror spoils,
snug and warm, content and fed.