Sprout wings, flaxy wings,
sparkling sunshine wings,
tensile gossamer
edged in forest green.
Fly from hilltop to
hilltop marking the
wayside stones and bones;
flit through dense trees, a
fresh damply morning
scent assails the nose;
dewdrops glint yet don’t
dampen toes, as we
skim archaic tracks.

Polly Stretton © 2012