The use of the word ‘reverie’ reminded me of this early poem . It’s about when I was a boy and troubled. If the day was fine I’d seek a spot on the Moors or Meadows where I could lie on high ground ie a small rise, anywhere that would enable me to, when flat on my back, see nothing but sky. When only Sky filled my vision it had a meditative,relaxing effect and I soon became lost in Reverie.
On my back, I see framed by my shoes
a beautiful vista that can only be
the perfect example of earth’s majesty
with greens and browns in myriad hues.
And looking up all I can see is sky,
save for strands of torn cotton wool
that competing winds start to pull
and tease apart with whispered sigh.
The vision I see and the warmth I feel
finally stills my ceaseless mind.
It is only here that I always find
moments of peace are easy to steal.
As reverie comes it opens the door
to a truly wondrous place
where I’m finally granted grace
to think and ponder no more