A lazy evening of screaming children
I must get out and away
My husband sits in front of the television
I guess this is his time of the day
I exit the back door quietly
I creep away barefoot and free
He probably won't even notice I'm gone
Until the kids whine and "where's me?"
I carefully place my feet before me
In the grass, through the field and glen
The quiet around me breath into my lungs
And I feel like a child back then
My thoughts are alighted, I grow close to the water,
The reflection is dark in the dusk
I want to sit longer, but know I must not linger,
My baby is hungry I trust
But I sit awhile on the bank of the river,
Seeping in the light through my skin
I wish I could lay here for hours on hours,
But I must care for my kin
So up I go and backtrack again
Carefully placing my feet
But one day I'll return here, my soul to replenish
The sounds of the forests' heartbeat
Dani,
ReplyDeleteI can't put my finger on it but as I read your post both here and at PPP...I get the sense of a southern author! I feel a homespun connection with family and yet a need to occasionaly step out of the 4 walls. Maybe it the "kin", the "barefeet"...I don't know for sure but if I didn't know you and based my impression on you from this single post...I would guess Mississippi born and bread! Kind of weird, I know but I just thought I would let you know.
Dan
:) Well Dan I'm glad to inspire something from within you... no, I'm not from the south. But I guess I can come up with things that create that sort of cultural sensation- I'm glad you pointed that out to me! :) Thanks a lot!
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