I feel a little drunk.
I want to be a country girl.
Crush aniseed from cow parsley,
Chew vanilla from sweet vernal,
Caress the heads of yorkshire fog
And the waves of rippling hair grass,
Chase the small blue, the speckled wood,
The jittery fritillary.
And when I am done, replete on nature,
I will unravel the longest string of thought,
Braided with oxeye daisies and meadow buttercups,
Tie a gentle slipknot,
and cast as high and wide as sight allows
and lasso this scene and take it home.
Thrilled that this appears in the Whispers and Echoes online Journal this week, (https://whispersandechoesmag.home.blog/category/journal/) which I submitted as part of Bartholomew Barker’s call for Sorta Sonnets. Thank you to Sammi Cox and Bartholomew for airing my country walk.