An Ode To Halcyon Days

Knee high to grass hoppers,  beckoned by Hollow Tree;
Our bellies were filled, an all-over glow from magical Ready Brek.
Excitedly prepared for the trek “down lane.”
We all congregated at green tank, each of our folks reminded us over the morning air to be careful, no trouble causing!
Pausing for a while; we waited for trainer laces to be tied and a couple of sleepy heads to join us.
At last we were off. A rabble of noise and chatter, sticks running along gates.
Mates, relatives and neighbours….life long friends.
Passing the last of the houses as we entered the sacred ground of “lane.”
It’s name was just that, that’s all it needed, just “lane.”
The warm morning sun turned the wheat fields a gorgeous golden glow.
“lane” a vivid green; separating the fields like an emerald river.
A sliver of silver in the far distance, the Humber estuary ….glinting.
Eyes squinting we focus on Hollow Tree; sturdy, old, stoic and all ours.
Running as fast as our feet could take us, “last one there is a ninny!!”
Laughter turned to delirium; a few falls, scraped knees.
Bees, butterflies and horsefly’s, busied themselves amongst the wildflowers.
A few bales of hay were tumbled by many hands to their new destination…..and a new role.
A soft but spiky landing mound at the base of Hollow Tree.
A ground level arch in the gnarly bark, big enough for all to climb through.
A queue formed, turns were taken. One by one, entering its dark void, a climb to the highest branch.
An avalanche of dust and insects fell before the blue sky above came into light.
A sight to behold! The highest big branch awaited, like a divers spring board, ready to launch us.
Tractors in the distance headed our way, hearts pumping as jumping on to the hay mound began.
Over and over, we jumped, flipped, and bombed into the golden cushion.
Rushing as the tractors came ever closer, angry fists raised by red faced farmers.
Oh…those halcyon days; hearty laughs, happy, hazy summers spent with our life long friends “down lane” and Hollow Tree.