Whispering
t r a i l s
of light-glazed ephemera
w a f t
from plain to hills;
*G i l d e d*
grams of silken
f+r+a+g+m+e+n+t+s
warm with pine
and noon.
Sunlight
p i t t e r - p a t t e r s ,
D a N c E S t E p P i N g
the length
of a polo field.
‘Is not this a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that
I love - that makes life and nature harmonise.’
- George Eliot
