a soft rain falls,
and twilight’s blue creeps in.
But we, like bees, have gathered
and now turn to.
Corn and rye, we’ve stacked the barley;
but there are damsons to put up,
and apples will be scrumpy before the final frost ̶
much still to do!
’Though at even’s veil we trim the wicks,
scrape chairs ’cross flags and sit close,
content the plough’s at peace and we are warm,
mending our nets by the fire.
“At the close of an early autumn day” © 2016 Valerie Barrett. All rights reserved.