On such a day
On such a day, there should be no sadness,
no looking over the shoulder or peering ahead.
On such a day of golden blue,
of drifting mimosa leaves, deep as fox-fur,
of sun warm as blood, running in rills
along the furrows of the fields,
losing itself in the green shadows of the oaks,
there should be only peace.
On an afternoon of uphill and down,
along the stream and up to hilltop, gazing,
with silent dogs, sniffing a handful
of pheasant feathers, a secret fox message,
a day of insouciance and the rabble of crows,
this is perfection, gentle laughter, the clasp
of your hand and how the whole round, blue
world turns about this insignificantly special place.
On such a day On such a day, there should be no sadness,no looking over the shoulder or peering ahead. On such a day of golden blue,of drifting mimosa leaves, deep as fox-fur,of sun warm as blood, running in rillsalong the furrows of the fields,losing itself in the green shadows of the oaks,there should be … Continue reading On such a dayRead MoreJane Dougherty Writes
