Wool

Wool

Hush now darling,
be very quiet, tread lightly.

Always remember,
this is an ever forgiving place:

you stand not with the judgment of flesh and silicone
but among the dreaming souls in cedars.

Chives with their pom poms, confetti coloured poppies
and glowing buttercup faces

scatter wildly,
jut up across the grassy floor.

There is no mad rush to leave this place,

as the chalk coloured leaves of arbutuses
fall like seconds from a clock,

and the fleeting strawberry red hills
hush you to sleep.

You hold reprieve here,
the universe grants some moment’s escape.

The autumnal path beneath your back turns to a soft
umber wool-

you pull it over your eyes to try and forget your role in this the
waywardly stitched world.