There are so many things I want to do,
to fall into the southern sun, the blue
that smells of pines and sings
with voices not my own,
to sit among stones old as trees,
bell towers against the sky, wild thyme full of bees.
So many things that like the swallows flown
I’ll never see, instead I spin this web
and sit entrapped in words, the substitute for be.
The lake shore recedes, and waters that once lapped
now flow into the endless blue and singing sea.
Am I the dark cow that cannot find the barn
in the deepening night? The fox barks on the hill
a hundred years away, he calls me still.
So many things to think about here:
The age of stones?
The age of trees?
The smell of blue?
The barking fox?
I will probably be unable to sleep tonight as my mind spins, and spins some more.
I’m glad I’m not the only one with a spinning mind 🙂 Sleep is a long way off yet.
Beautiful. Stones as old as trees 🥰
Thank you. I’m watching the football and dreaming of Italy 🙂
You’re a better woman than me. Ill dream of Italy but feck the footie 🤣🤣
They won!!! Now I can go to bed;
Night 🥰
Beautifully penned.
The call of ancient things and nature, and dreams of other places. Very dreamy. 😀
I wonder if that was the soccer match my husband was watching?
Ooh probably! I do hope Italy wins xx
Same here. Beautifully put.
xx
Other times and places always call. But perhaps our dream world is where we really live. (K)
It ought to be. For many people, our world is their dream too.
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Beautiful wooven. I always love your usage of metaphors. Thank you for sharing, Jane!
Enjoy a nice evening! xx Michael
Thank you, Michael. The hay was finally cut yesterday between showers. There are more storms coming and the farmer daren’t leave it any longer.