Drawn on whispered breath
Of wind
The scent of pine
On upturned branches
Caressed by
The sentiment
Of a winter sun
Channeling the
Powder blue
Funnel of sky.
Spent leaves of Autumn
Spun into
Drifts of
Gold carpet
Crunch
Under soft feet
Startling a wood pigeon
Breaking the spell.
When we escape the wind, mist and rain that we’ve had all day and venture North East 30 mins to find a completely different day. Pepper the Whippet hates rain -what a joy to find dry leaves!
Ruth Partridge 