Things Poetic

 Rain rain rain whispering, it softly drifts through the air, softly coating leaves on trees, blades of grass slowly bending as the drops coalesce  falls with a soft splash, barely heard Wind drifting the mist across the fields in the distance air slowly cleaning itself refreshed for the new day

Life and living                                                                                           “To be alive at all is to have scars.”                                                                              John Steinbeck,  The Winter of Our Discontent

 A poem for today I just got home from a holiday and was reading  "The Peace of Wild Things" by Wendell Berry, and as I was flicking through it I saw this poem

 Farewell Cornwall Freshness I the air, catching your breath morning quiet, sounds of water against sand Soaring seagulls, calling to the wind, to their peers, to the sky risen sun glistens off feathers, splashing off the water rippled colours, twist around ropes and boats early swimmers out, braving the coolness as the sounds of boats returning starts to wake the town summer continues Car packed, keys returned....and off

 Infinite Skies disappear into the mist, sails drop, slowly flapping until bound knots tested, tied anchor dropped tidy ropes, decks change into dry clothes gin o'clock  as the sun sets

 Sandcastles The cries of joy layer the evening air with fun and laughter, Sand covers the feet, buckets ready with spades rush off to find the bestest place to build safe from the water, and the stones Slowly it rises, reaching upwards,  some damage from a poorly placed bucket yet continues Water and wet sand follow the Sagrada Família of sandcastles rises up stones and shells decorate it, with sticks as flag posts water into the moat They dance around it, laughing and excitedly pointing it out to us as the tide gets closer and the moat fills further till the sea wins and the castle is no more until the morning