WHAT I SEE
A Summer mist, dew drop silken screen floating above a field,
adorns the verdant sheen, to warm caress soon will yield,
simple beauty briefly seen.
A field of Barley, in waves of ebb and flow,toyed by the breeze,
scented secret voice, from buffeted stalks, the air does tease,
and harvest time rejoice.
An English Wood, sentinel statues of complex wooden mould,
a sunlight dappled domain, of splendour for eyes to behold,
in memory to remain.
The glint of water, feeding through the land as brooks or streams,
silent until it falls, when Naiad chatter infuses magic into dreams
as ever on it crawls.
I never look, my blessing or curse is that I can only see,
that nothing is ever mundane,a World of majesty,
everything is arcane.