Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

Fifth November Blog.

Breeze Dreams.

Oh, thou fallow breeze,
Talk to me of far off places,
Sing me songs of yesterday,
Of strangely comforting
Exotic races.
Show me where my history lies,
Carry me to mountain pastures,
Tibetan monks ring twisting gongs
And teach me strength, oh, Lightning masters.
Horsemen on a Gobi plain,
Hunting eagles flying
For the desert foxes there,
Whilst soughing winds are sighing.
Brilliant colours shining brightly,
India’s tigers hunting
For the Samba in the mangrove,
Listening to the chirping Bunting.
Heat and desert fill my nostrils,
Camels ‘cross the sand,
Caravans are swayng gently,
Over all a dry parched land.
‘Til I reach the dense deep forests
Where the buzzard flies above,
Trickling streams down tree-lined hillsides,
Whilst he tracks the fleeting dove.
And the snake winds round the branches,
And ratler stows beneath the shale,
Nesting, laying eggs in darkness,
Feeds on passing mouse…