In this moment
the sky paints the river
Rose gold
the trees paint the earth
Golden rust
the birds paint the space between
with golden song.
I do not wish to be with
the clamour of cars
or the shout of shops
I wish to be with the
wonder of the woods
the rolling of the river
the shh of the stream
where a mink may make an appearance
and the kingfisher has it’s secret home.
where the blackbirds chatter in treetops
and everything sings a golden song.
© 15 Oct 20
