Treasure Island

James Doyle


Springtime


Icicle be swift,
Slow, slow then swift.
Steely skies make farewell to snowflakes drift
Sleepy headed river
come on dilly dally through,
warm winds lay windy kisses on the pale morning dew
Far and into away,
beyond rusted metalled paddock
lies lonely cobbled lane, wild berry, thorn and hemlock
Distant old stone walled bakery,
spill your life affirming sound
into the joyous crispened dawn,
a sense of ones place briefly found.

Submitted: Saturday, August 24, 2013
Edited: Monday, August 26, 2013

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