in Just-

spring          when the world is mud-

luscious the little

lame balloonman

whistles          far          and wee

While there was no balloonman, lame or otherwise, it is just – spring… and as we tramped through the woods and meadow, this is what came to mind.

The mornings have been beautiful of late – damp with dew, so much so that my shoes and pant legs are soaked from walking through the grass.  The pale green shoots of fresh leaves and buds dapple the landscape.  And daffodils of all sizes and varieties are in bloom and wave with the wind.

Each morning, Verbal and I head to what is known as the butterfly path, and walk to the horse paddock.  There is a paint, a pony, and a little donkey that looks like a strange dwarf variety that escaped from the circus.  He also likes to sleep A LOT, so we often find him sacked out on the grass guarded by the paint and the pony.

And after our walk, Verbal crawls back into bed, and I begin my day.  Coffee, paper, and the trades.  Exotic it is not, but sometimes the mundane is lovely.

As ever,

K. Quinn