Gillian Clarke - Hay-making lyrics

You know the hay's in when gates hang slack in the lanes. These hot nights the fallen fields lie open under the moon's clean sheets. The homebound road is sweet with the liquors of the gra**es, air green with the pastels of stirred hayfields. Down at Fron Felen in the loaded barn new bales displace stale darknesses. Breathe. Remember finding first kittens, first love in the scratch of the hay, our sandals filled with seeds.