A river in the verdant hills
between the valleys softly flows,
and sweeps beside a churning mill
which sits just off the cobbled road.
I rest in cooling, soothing shade
then spy a cart with covered load
in this, the hottest stretch of day,
behind a set of heaving hooves.
The market does not trade today...
a hooded driver sits unmoved;
the wheels brush through the bowing plants -
transfixed, I watch the pair pass through.
While I recline upon the banks,
I’m sure I’m cast a fleeting glance.