A Summer Day (July 1970)
The little fields lie far below me spread
In patch-work squares of green and brown; the trees
Houses and roads so tiny, so remote
They might, it seems, be in another world.
And here I sit alone on the hillside
Beneath a cloudless sky, in the warm sun
Absorbing through all senses I possess
The sights, the sounds, the smells, the peacefulness,
The beauty of this sunny countryside.
And as I sit, by some strange alchemy,
I seem to grow akin to everything
Around me; the warm earth, the grass, the ferns,
The myriad insects, all are part of me
And I of them; together we are parts
Which blended make this perfect summer day
And fill it with delight.
But all days end;
So when the light begins to fade, the air
Grows chilly, I’ll descend the winding path
And when I reach the valley I shall see
The fields, houses and trees just as they were
Before I left them; I’ll return to tread
The daily round, but with a lighter step.
Meg Rugg-Easey July 1970