There is a path goes right across a field,
High across the middle of a nothing sort of field,
A field of mostly grass.

I am here today,
Buffeted, hearing
Nothing but the blowing

Till I turn away,
And hear the quiet thunder of a distant aeroplane
Drifting into grey,

While all the time and all around
Busy songs of birds
Rise from the ground.

I can see behind
Two school towers,
Red, black, over green trees;

Ahead, a church's only tower,
...