the pink wisp hanging alone in the still blue
of this October afternoon;
the brown rustle of dry leaves
excited by my winged feet
and the glow of golden green
in trees touched by the soft eyes of evening.
I want to give you the house with the whispered
Welsh name on the slumbering lane
that’s woken by my happy steps;
the late flower bursting red through concrete,
and the easy sigh of the darkening sea
kissing the shore of our dreams.
~ Polly Oliver (2016)