The Breeze of the Trees.

Paths crossed with the wind, the withered leaves 🍂 love dancing around them inside them caressing your cheeks and head. They lay by your feet as if it is now your magical carpet to walk down, not red, oh no you’re special, the leaves 🍃 of all colours have fallen at your feet with love in them that’s what nature is intended to show, that just left to grow it will produce anything you wish to grow. I have made a beautiful hair ring with these leaves teasing with colour and the white daisy I specially had grown in the greenhouse back home. I’m endlessly writing and number all the poisonous plants and ivy to touch the skin and leave it so bitter.

The soil you were told to toil, left unattended nature makes love with the elements of the air,wind,water and soil. Enrich it with love and love it will grow. The leaves 🍁 again collecting in a corner all colours shapes and sizes. Such a beautiful array. I draw them in my notepad and a few lines of their propaganda, the wind and soil and seeds to fill the field of a variety of species that will grow and cause a big tease.

I decided to write these notes and keep them in a safe place for we are to time travel and I always want you to know in this silent courtyard, vines clasped onto trellises bringing sounds of thunder and lightning, frightened it may hit the mast where the electric cables run through and start a fire, only just built the shed to house the horses as we had a terrible fire that engulfe the whole shed and likily the horses ran in safty.

I keep a safe copy of all my notes pictures poems and writings sealed in cask in a safe In London, the Bank of Fort Nox. I’ll make my way down to London what is the score in umbrellas? Patient raincoats with the drizzle then heavy downpour of rain for comings and goings of Wimpy traffic and the city slows down.

we move swiftly into evening where the Liliac Moon shines and I see her face, I sit in awe of her magnificence, turning Angel white to lead to poor, pious souls through the night. They look to you for energy and strength in this endless plight, of running from one conflict to another with no peace in sight. Must it take for all concerned to watch the moon turn pink in her majestic turn, we will all drink, eat and be merry and talk of peace otherwise this Time Machine will never return to the chaos and destruction that we are all to face.

The warmth glow of the of this, so the hazy orange lightning, invites the soggy goers to come inside and take a breath. I’ll be a short lived. It’s as if not for a moment, the walls are washed away, and the concrete is clean, and truly it feels calm.

©️Dawn Earnshaw.