Janine Goullée

The Walk

Of different colours
the sun pushing cautiously through,
tickling birdsong and hills.
Bushes shimmering with the wind
visiting fields and seas,
with a cool whispering caress
through the hills. Later on
dancing shadows  cast on the cliffs.
Stilted  slow swaying trees,
only a pale green mist drifting
into tiny air wisps.
A day of self discovery,
layered far horizons,
lunch shared with fat basking lizards,
we rested, exhausted.
Lazy dragonflies dip into
pools of deep still water.
Moving, purply-black canopies –
ferocious elements
escalate to their true power. cloistering together
for comfort, we know that no-one
will visit, save the wind.
Souls have been filled with her power.

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