like a painting
Like a painting
Is anything more beautiful than an early morning
in Cheshire, I walked along alone it was like being
in the middle of a painting dripping leaves and
dew on the grass.
A lone horse came to the fence I stroked it. Then
it went back grazing again no longer alone.
On the other side of the field a gate opened., a flock
of sheep came, company good enough for the horse
I was free to go.