Magpie Tales is a writing blog hosted by Willow at Willow Manor. Click here to see the other entries.
A simple little luxury unheard of for many years of work from 9-5, pick up the children from daycare, start supper, a messy house, unwashed laundry . . .The doors and windows are flung open to a few perfect days after a long steambath summer. Not for us a big, splashy Fall with crunchy leaves underfoot. But, if you watch for them, tiny oak leaves flutter down in the cool breeze like lazy yellow butterflies. The room is bathed in dappled sun light and silence. Time slows to a stop. Disconnected thoughts drift in and out. . . peace. . . sleep. An afternoon nap.
ah you create such serentity...love the lazy little butterfly leaves...smiles. nice magpie
ReplyDeleteLovely images in this. The butterflies floating down as Brian mentions, how sweet. After the long steam bath of summer. A very very good poem, thanks for sharing.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful memories... images of days gone by... Something definitely outside of my fast paced world that is everchanging.
ReplyDeleteI wait all summer for that moment of throwing open the windows to cool fall air! ah.
ReplyDeletethis was a breath of fresh air!
ReplyDeletelovely writing, my friend...
ReplyDeletei enjoyed this very much.
happy to see you at farmhouse
kary and teddy
xxx