Poetry by Jeff Green


Pleasant Land

by cricketjeff on November 20, 2007.  © Jeff Green, All rights reserved

Sitting on a hill I see
England stretched in front of me.
Fields of yellow, brown and green
A country pleasant and serene

A winding river cutting through
Fields of every natural hue.
A village nestles in the folds
Between the greens and browns and golds

A splash of red – the old school roof.
A grey stone church that stands aloof.
Outside the pub an ancient sign
A partridge with a glass of wine.

The village stores with all its wares
Attracted buyers, glancing stares.
Village bobby on his beat
Pounding streets with size 12 feet.

The post van winding down the Lane
It looks like he is late again.
His van so red with flash of gold
Stands out as a statement bold.

He’s driving past the farmyard there
Past the riding school with care.
Cows want milking, by the gate
The farmer though has made them wait.

Winding lane through wooded copse
Barrier down, it never stops
Flashing past the London train
Taking workers home again.

Home is calling to me too
Time for drinking tea with you
England’s glories to behold
Among the green and brown and gold.

Author notes

A collaboration between Sue Cardwell and I on a wet evening in November 2007.

Thanks Sue
You can see it on her page centre aligned with a pretty picture.