Names on the Map

Cow House Field.
An acre square
where buttercups and grass
vie to catch the eye
and the brown hare hides in the long grass.
Only a strip of wall remains
hidden in a hawthorn hedge;
the rest carted away
to fill gaps and mend walls.

Parson's Barn.
Nothing there
but a cross-roads
described by the grey stone walls
and a ribbon of cow parsley
and a thrush singing in the sycamore.
The stone long gone
to cottage and to wall;
the timbers to crackle on
the Autumn bonfire.

Chapel Corner.
A bus stop
where the road bends
towards the town,
where children stand each morning
swinging their satchels.
The tin chapel
where the congregation's hymns were
drowned out by
the rattle of rain on the roof,
now rusted and fallen
into the tall nettles.

Peacock's Field.
The grass cut yellow.
The cock pheasant
stalks in his finery,
the curlew's nest lies
brutally exposed.
Images of exotic birds
fill the mind. But
the truth is
George Peacock was the farmer
his name left on the map. The Weaver of Grass