This is the view out of my window in front of my desk. This is my writing space. A place where I sit and write the words that come into my head.
It's not the prettiest if views but looking over the neighbouring house past the chimney smoke you can see a hill top that is lit up from the last of the evening rays, sometimes there're a few random sheep.
Other days it stormy or just cloudy. The view is even less pretty but I still like to look.
No the view outside my window is less than pretty but there is something poetic about the old compost heap and the old brick fireplace you can just make out through the fence. The wild Rose Bush that blooms in the spring and summer time but is dormant in the winter. The smoke coming from the chimney of the house next door.
The thing I love the most is the little and big birds that come fluttering in and land on the old compost heap, the fence and the wild Rose Bush.
The wild nature is what I love.
This is where I like to look and write.
YOU ARE READING
Now
PoetryA selection of words that by no means should be called poems as I am no poet.