With my sore knee I thank him
for the stay-cation parking in his yard
and assure him I popped the stated fee
into his box tied on the 5 bar gate.
High on the cliffs I count linnets, swifts,
rock falls. I note foxglove, bluebells.
While fat cows munch rich pastures,
crops are greening ploughed fields.
At the lowing cattle shed I calculate,
multiplying the number of cars here by
by the days of this strange tourist season.
I wonder what he tells the Accountant.
Finola Scott