Spinach Pie Poem by Les Derbyshire

Sitting on a rock
Eating a spinach pie
While the sun shines benevolently
From a sky that's forgotten
How to make clouds.
And the gold-dotted green at my feet
Sidles down to the sand
And the turquoise sea.
A visit from a small, grey spider
That sits on my leg and waits
But the look she gives me
Tells me at once she's not impressed
With the crumbs I've spilled
And she ambles off as the day dozes by
To the off-key jangle of the goat bells
Drifting on the breeze
As they crop the short, stiff grass
And the pungent herbs.
High above,
A falcon hangs on the warm air
And I sit on a rock
Eating a spinach pie.