A waft of leaves as they lie strewn about,
to gather musk upon the paths we walk.
In colder times we'll cover all the windows
to keep out cold and and give us cosy talk.
We'll eat a feast and leave some food for later
and lean back in our easy chairs reclined.
Eyes rest on patterned ceiling ranged above,
mouths grab at words that we pull from our mind.
And in those words grand plans begin to form,
but life, oh life, it happens in between,
betwixt the one big fish event and next,
those are the moments holding what we dream.
And sometimes you've no choice to join the struggle,
and others you feel ennui take you in.
The world's arranged with air and thorns and sparkle,
and all of it is yours to lose and win.
The half forgotten stare, the longed for wings,
the way meanders round itself to fizz.
The endless marching tide of things and stuff,
how wonderful the simplest of those is.