UP IN THE WIDE BLUE YONDER

Children are always certain
Someone has forgotten
To give them wings,
And that one day,
Wings will suddenly sprout
Out of their shoulder blades,
With enough feathers
For an entire flock of eagles.

Childhood has long since gone
But I am still waiting.

                   © 2020 Gwen Grant

We were out in the middle of nowhere when I saw this derelict piece
of farm machinery. We were surrounded by fields and fields with the
odd spinney breaking up the green and brown like an exclamation
mark. I’m hopelessly in love with these northern landscapes and
when, from a distance, I saw what I thought was a man in a field,
it seemed to me how fortunate he was to be out in that pure sunshine,
in that glorious land. If you’re going to be abandoned, there was no
better place.

        THE IRON MAN

I saw an iron man on the way north.
He was digging in a field of red earth,
The earth so red
It matched his rusty bones.
As we drew closer,
I saw with my own eyes
It was not an iron man, of course,
But some old farm machinery
Abandoned in a hedge,
Left to rot in the hard, cold hand of winter.

That iron man will never dig the red earth out.
Never throw a spadeful over his shoulder.
Yet men of iron and we, of blood and bone,
Have one thing in common.
We all need someone to help us.
They to have their rusty bones made bright again.
We to have our rusty hearts made new,
To shine again.

The iron man will have to wait until times change,
Until someone shows up who loves old farm machinery.
But our help has already shown up,
For hope will change us
And love will shine up the world.

                                               © 2018 Gwen Grant