There it goes, the great grey beast;
Belching out smoke and noise.
Where is the peace that was there?
When I did the work.
This mobile combustion engine
That seems to have taken over the world.
Using oil that will vanish soon,
Eaten by these mechanical beasts of burden.
These fine summer days where I laze
In a grass covered field, with my partner.
We just amble around, at peace,
The occasional passer by stroking us, with fondness.
I dream of days passed, where my mate and I
Would be called by the farmer to go to work.
Those days where we were harnessed
To that plough, that tilled the soil
Those days of peace and quiet, broken only
By the quiet call from the farmer “Walk on”.
We plodded sedately, pulling this machine
Quietly and with absolute ease.
The occasional sound of stones hitting stones
As the earth was turned over;
The sounds of birds in the distance,
Added to the stillness and peace.
The re-assuring screaming of gulls and crows,
Pecking at the ground behind us;
Looking for sustaining morsels of food
To feed themselves, or their families
All day we would pull in a reverie
Enjoyed by all.
We were at peace with everyone;
No cares in our silent, carefree, world
When day was done the call of “Whoa” was heard.
The farmer would release us from our task’
Pet us fondly and lead us home.
A job well done, with no hardship.
The day then came when we were eclipsed
By the great grey beast!
Let it get on with it then!
I can look back at those green fields with the pride
Of a job well done over many years.
And a rest truly earned.