Thursday, December 23, 2010
Route planning
Route planning is a bit of a misnomer. It's essential to mull over the map every morning, whilst imbibing copious cups of coffee. It's inevitable that the route is never followed, as Dobbin and Little Bull often vere off the route as they sniff out adventure.
Waking up to a field of Butterflies
PRIVE
Bleary-eyed, zipping wide my cocoon, I peel myself into the morning
Uttering, muttering, I crawl out of the tent.
The soft sun of morning greets me and iluminates
The magical carpet of spider webs,
Everywhere clinging to the dew-drench grass.
Riot of butterflies bustle on the subtle breeze -
Floating, fleeting. Greedily I drink it in:
Lowing cattle framed by bower of sweet peas.
I thrill at nature's wallpaper
Enclosed by beech saplings, sturdy firs: our secret glen. Cars zoom past.
Steadily heralding a new dawn, the daily web is caste.
Bleary-eyed, zipping wide my cocoon, I peel myself into the morning
Uttering, muttering, I crawl out of the tent.
The soft sun of morning greets me and iluminates
The magical carpet of spider webs,
Everywhere clinging to the dew-drench grass.
Riot of butterflies bustle on the subtle breeze -
Floating, fleeting. Greedily I drink it in:
Lowing cattle framed by bower of sweet peas.
I thrill at nature's wallpaper
Enclosed by beech saplings, sturdy firs: our secret glen. Cars zoom past.
Steadily heralding a new dawn, the daily web is caste.
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