August Patchwork Sitting on the Fence Ten Trees bands of gold in a yellow field conversation on a summer day days of red mixed with green empty and beautiful five lonely stems in a pink field five red distant bushes golden ribs in an evening landscape it lay unnoticed by the roadside it really does feel like nowhere-land meets the sky, peels wool from nails, and water washes the stone it was wrapped in the gold, of west ireland no doors , a clear sky, and shaven sheep poles and bare trees, the lark has lost its beck, the traveller with broken bones poles and hedgerows, needle men, your greateful not to be purple sheep in a yellow field rattle of trees, wither of breath, so many brown and yellow roads red mixed with gold red mixed with golden hedgerows rooks, above and between the empty trees stitched horizon to a pink sky summer dream from a barren tree summer patchwork summer stitched landscape the day I saw pink sheep the great expanse also lay crooked on a backbone the long road home the pearl sun, laid out a fragile land the poisioned glen the release of octobers burnt twilight the sleepy wink of the sun the smoke rose-above the covered hill thoughts from a yellow field when gold tracks visited the red field