Cover of leaves
Swaying outside the window
As my mind sways Inside.
The wind on my face is soft
And tousles my hair ever so gently.
The lone thrush calls out plainly
And stops to listen when I mimic it.
A brightly speckled butterfly
Hovers above my head
Looking for the right perching spot.
In the distance, the phone beeps,
Breaking the lull.
I cannot be bothered to move.
The abounding peace is too infectious.
Meanwhile, an intense afternoon sunlight
Streams in from the West,
I look at the gold shaded drapes
And realise that Winter is dead.