I crack open my day brewing coffee,its aroma stimulating my senses.A new morning it is! — I think.What new crisis is on…
Over a moorland beckA real dead sheep(Hanging by its own horns)Swung between two branches; Like a child in swinging heaven…
I prefer to remain unseen unheard…away from the crowd~on the banks of my ownwhere I dwell all alone~…