1 JANUARY 1994, Page 24

Dreaming of Tramps

When it snows the farmers have nowhere to go; their wives take them to shops and cafés like dull sons.

Escaping to sheds or bedrooms they wish they could read a comic or watch a really old Western.

Instead they have only the snow to stare at. They need to dream of rivers and fields waiting like restless girls.

They need to remember the stench of hedges but all they can think of is tramps inhabiting their barns.

They would like to be there as well dreaming of kites and apple orchards, always in retreat, running off the map.

David H.W. Grubb