Wednesday, 19 October 2011

october 19 2011

the lock on the gate is broken
a supreme cloudless day
remains of our twig, acorn, leaf task shuffle along the edge of the pond
remnants of our path still there
just over a week and nature has subsumed our human journey
melded and melted in
and one marvelous purple marsh thistle shines where there was nothing
priest-like in the straight sun
the roof is collapsing
forecourt covered in straight lines of thatch
animaled off the roof, or is it birds

I found the 'key'
I found the stored handful of wildflowers
I found today's wildflower