Out in the fields.

Original by Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
My apologies for the corruption.

The little cares that fretted me
I lost them yesterday,
Among the fields above the sea,
Among the winds at play,
Among the lowing of the herds,
The rustling of the trees,
Among the singing of the birds,
The humming of the bees.

The foolish fears of what might happen.
I cast them all away
Among the clover-scented grass.
Among the new-mown hay,
Among the husking of the corn,
Where drowsy poppies nod
Where ill thoughts die and good are born—
Out in the fields with the dog.

Then the snarling farmer barks,
“Get Off My Fucking Land”
And breaks up the reverie.

PDBarton May 2020