the sound of hoof-beats

clopping on a cobbled lane

the sweet smell of hay

the garden pruned back

birds inspect diminished trees

winter without song

ivy encroaching

creeping up trees over walls

reclaiming the town

after the nesting

massacre of branches, chain-saws

before the berries

a lynx stalks my dreams

orange coat, luminous eyes

staring, biding time

a moment of pause

pen poised above a notebook

while thoughts coalesce

listening to soil

weeds growing like memories

rain slowly seeping

masts stand like corn stalks

on a lilac evening

not even a breath

procrastination

when the goal is placed before

the journey begins

summer evening

pink flowers glowing violet

the hour before dusk