Under a blue sky    fields of barley stretch
beyond the horizon      I’m a city boy
but country air    from time to time    is good
for the soul
            Sunday mornings we’d come here
to pick wild mushrooms       for a champion
breakfast       on the edge of fields where cattle
grazed     the rich smell of the damp soil carried
home with the fruits of our labour      the taste
that lingered on the tongue
                                          Nobody gets
out of here alive     How strange that you are
gone      back into the dark earth from which all
life      to be dust again     and memories
your smile    your loving words      your zest for life
caught in fading photos
                                 in fading minds

John Lyons