Fly Away Home

VIII - Frosting

I could feel the frost in the air as I could touch it with my fingers, whitened 

and I see it dewy on the grass, crunching footprints round the barn,

I could feel the scent of freshness on my face, through my hair and-

nipping sweetly at my ear:

tender tender bites. white, pink, red... and grey.

Somewhere in the distance a cockerel crows

Somewhere in the distance, donkeys are talking, braying from their fields

Grey, white, brown, I see them through the sun's eyes

Soft smoked applewood noses, velvety kisses, tender nipping lips

Round me my river flows with her eternal song

Bumbles drop the lavender on crunching pink gravel

in the driveway.

and clouds, just, drift by.

(19th November 2013)