A flash of colour upon an oak tree’s trunk
Welch flag painted there
Not long ago
Red Dragon high
Where shells once fell
And guns and blood stained bayonets
Did their work
To fill a hundred cemeteries.
This tranquil landscape of the Somme
Shines in the Indian summer sun
A mellow fruitfulness Gentle cattle, Ploughed fields,
Rolling down land and wooded rivers
Still green on this October morn.
The Sunday chasseurs stalk the ground
Their dogs at heel.
The memories do not fade
Tears still falling
Year on year.
Monday, October 29, 2007