Joy Winkler
Ploughing Match
and then the tractors come,
autumn day, stubbled fields yawn
and stretch in the blessing of sun
and the breath that is left from the corn
and then the horses come,
gentle giants, Shires and Clydes
working the land to the turn,
ploughing the soil with their pride
and then the ploughman comes,
with his keen eye, knowledge and skill,
this life's in his blood and he's strong,
his success in the cut of the steel
and then the hedgelayers come,
their axes and billhooks cleave
till the hawthorn cracks like a gun
and the pleachers bow to the weave
and then the traders come,
with their scraper blades, pick-ups and grain
with their oils and bright fuel drums
with their vehicles for every terrain
and then the visitors come,
to watch Ransomes and Fergusons toil
to relax in the day's pleasant hum
and the ritual turning of soil
and then the judges come,
huddle headed, serious and stern,
for theirs is the rule of thumb
well respected by everyone
and then the trophies come,
a chance for the best to be proud,
a reward for a good job done
and a slap on the back from the crowd
and then the leaving comes,
as dusk calls for final goodbyes
overhead a plane makes for home
like a silver bird ploughing the sky.
Commissioned by Cheshire County Council for the Ploughing Match, Dunham Massey 2005
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