The Kraken Wakes.

(With apologies to Tennyson!)

Behind the logs

the straw and

many scratching hens,

he sleepeth:

tiny beams of watery sun

play on his shadowy sides.

Above him giant cobwebs

hang, weighed down by

rising dust - and swallows,

newly-fledged ,bespoil

his ruddy shell.

Until today.

His giant form is

stirred to life - the

cobwebs break asunder;

the swallows flee.

Then, like the Kraken from the depths,

he surges forth and lumbers

up the yard, steered by

his Commander.

For his hour has come.

The corn lies ripening in the fields

and he, with sharpened blades,

and oiled,

will lay it low.

In roaring he shall rise

and then

at Harvest Home

shall die - his shell

returned to moulder

for another year.