We finished harvest yesterday just before lunchtime. By two o’clock were sitting in Cambridge crematorium to say goodbye and celebrate the life of Mike Windsor. As I sat there I realised that two harvests had been completed. Mike had been a gentle man, in all senses of the description. He was a ‘welcomer’: wherever he was , whatever he was doing, whoever he was with, he’d greet you with enthusiasm. I’m not going to go all holy, but if there is another room, one of the many people I would hope to see there would be Mike. Harvest is done…

The fields are dustless and silent,
The combine harvester’s not there,
The crops are safely in the barn,
Thoughts now turn elsewhere.

Rows of silent mourners,
Under that sad-place’s dome,
Where people also gather,
To celebrate “harvest home”.

© Baldock Bard 2013
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