Drifting clouds

–
Small feet follow the secret paths,

Paths that lead to adventure’s,

played through the scrub and trees.

In the small glen where freedom was everywhere.

–

The secret tree hut, watch tower.

Shelter from the enemies that pursued me.

A place to see the wildlife

which the imagination transformed into monsters.

–

To lie in the fallen leaves and watch the clouds.

Faces and being’s formed in their shapes.

Drifting by where time mattered not.

A stick , a magic wand.

–

Bird song a code only I could know.

Know which plants to eat.

Berries that were sweet.

Secrets I would keep.

–

The dead forest, the swamp land.

Newts and frogs lived there.

Witch’s, swamp monsters kept watch’

Not a place to linger.

–

To know where the Sparrow hawk nested,

Sit beside the rabbit’s in the wild.

See the Hare  play on the open hill.

Mice scurry around the dry stone wall.

–

Today I sit an older man’

Memories drift like clouds.

Wild berries in my hand.

Birds speak and I understand.

–

GeorgeMcNeill

07/05/2018

Photo: The Mourne Mountians, rain clouds passing.