Idlewild is how best I like to be
empty days and diary pages kept full
of wool-gathering dates
appreciating a backwood space to amble
and unscramble self from the frenzied crowd
I have leaned long on broken fences
commencing with daydream dawn chorals
sorrel suns flooding field and water meadow
a crescendo of birdsong before sudden silence
licence then for insect hum to break from clouds
it is late in the full blown season and even snow
tip-toes when the curfew bell has sounded
rounded up farmyard and fowl into their stalls
the shawl of night will wrap me reconciled
idlewild and boundless in the shroud
Title and image with kind permission from the wonderful photography blog SunEarthSky. For this week’s Poetics: Photography by Sharon Knight. Many thanks to Sharon – and Mish for this prompt.
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