I want to be,
Something from Thomas Hardy,
Summer fling,
Flung maybe,
The setting,
Without the tragedy,
Wear a cheese cloth smock,
Sucking a straw of barley,
Pitching into the haycock,
A young peasant Kinski,
A Bathsheba-style beauty clocks,
me swigging cider, thirstily,
From rustic earthenware pots,
To see as he sees,
Nothing but pleasant agriculture,
And find it disturbingly progressive,
And long for better days gone by,
When all was wild,
Free of style,
Natures child,
And maybe if we are lucky,
My grandchildren will long for my times,
As a time when England was,
A green and pseudo-pleasant paradise,
Instead of a post-apocalyptic,
Nuclear wasted series of barren ex-industrial islands,
I wish I was at that sheep dip with thee,
Miss Everdene,
With all ever green,
Bur without the poverty,
M Joseph 02/06/06
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