Pine needles carpet my river walk
Swallows play on summer thermals
I hear the odd whoop of joy
Food is plentiful
Life is simple on the wing
Beams of light shimmer
Invisible hands play the harp strings
I feel humble,
almost as delicate as tissue paper
I touch the trunk of a chestnut tree
Slow my breath before taking the bend
That leads me back to the crowd
The people who anchor my life…
© Anita Dawes 2021
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