Repose.
In dying moments low sun crept
into haziness making laced
veils into buttery bands
as end-of-day yellowness swept
tree-lined horizon.
Cows on lush fields dun-dappled
by shadows, chewing late
cud, trundled milk-laden
as pail-in-hand maidens tackled
beasts\' creamy arrival.
Composed and performed music
of duty rings to slow plod
of well-rehearsed labour
when repose brings quell to usual
chores before revival.