In The Corner Of An English Field

In the corner of an English field lies this tired old fellow.
As the seasons turn, he is returning to the ground one flake of rust at a time.
He worked hard for his retirement, and now relishes every moment; passing the time of day with the trees, or the occupants of a nesting family, deep within him.
He sees the field going behemoths that have superseded him and quietly smiles; for their time in the corner of an English field will come soon enough.