Springtime In The Country

Clover lawns and wooden fences
Horses dallying in the fields
Dappled gray and brown, and one so white
It catches sunlight and flings it fro
And the trees, yes, the trees,
Boughs heavy-laden with bustling green
In the distance, past the field
Past the fences and where the horses mill
A house, a cottage really,
The chimney a jagged finger pointed to heaven
I see a boy, a red-haired boy
And a dog, a brown mongrel mutt
Who play and dance as though coerced by song