They have been fed and watered, <br />And are ready for work. <br />They stand patiently <br />And wait for the day to begin. <br />They know the ploughman’s step, <br />Their heads turn, <br />Eyes follow him and see <br />The sugar in his hand, they <br />Snuffle at it and then eat. <br />They are massive framed <br />And gentle, these horses of <br />The fields, and they amble to <br />The plough and shuffle into <br />Place to be harnessed, . <br />The leather gleams in the <br />Clear morning air, and they <br />Paw the ground and nod <br />Their heads as though <br />Talking together.. <br />The ploughman is alone, <br />That is how he likes it <br />For forty years he has <br />Driven the plough, <br />He loves his horses, <br />And ploughing is his art. <br />The horses stand perfectly <br />Still as he sets the share and <br />The coulter then <br />As they move down the <br />Field, the harnesses jingle, <br />And the horse brasses <br />Chink.and the furrow horse <br />Walks neatly in the furrow. <br />Three beings at work, <br />They move as one. <br />The ploughman <br />Walks steadying the <br />Plough with his hands <br />His whole being is <br />Watchful so that each <br />Furrow is perfect, the soil <br />Sharp-angled, and smooth. <br />At midday they rest, <br />A pie and ale <br />For the ploughman <br />And oats for the horses, <br />Then on again into the <br />Afternoon, trampling the earth. <br />The day is tired now <br />The light red with evening, <br />A breeze blows <br />Them homeward, and the sky <br />Is full of birds coming in to roost. <br />They are groomed and fed, <br />They stand ruminating, their <br />Tails swishing to drive off <br />The insects that are busy <br />Biting. <br />Their day is done. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />.<br /><br />Mike Tonkin<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/horses-of-the-fields/
