Dew

Gossamer dew
laces lawn
glitter’s sun’s breath

sky infinite blue
blue so blue
& the combines

chuff like alien
starships.

‘Pick your battles’
someone said
& I Boudica

to the core
am exhausted

by dissention.

Country lanes
unravel, webbed
by cut hay

swallow’s dive
a tiny spider,
'cross my palm

with gold'.

Morning eyes
ponder my
small slice

of existence
& I bow, for
today’s a good

day:

here I've
peace & light
& more than

a little love
to warm me.