mindscape

the Japanese man on the hill
had his light on at five in the morning

the only wind in the world
was yet like a touch and less like a warning  

 deep blue was never to be found

green was the colour of the hour

cloud cover traveled up like warmth
the wind's voice chattered like a torch

 we were enveloped in this world
each hilltop brought another forward

our legs brushed through the wildest grass
our heartbeats gave the slightest crash

 lost for a moment, gone for a day,
mother went the other way

we were Wendy, Peter Pan
came knocking at the door again

 the temperature just rose and fell
we packed our pockets with the smell

of sunlight on the grass and trees
that always grow and never freeze

hungry and moody, full and subdued,
the grasslands keep their attitude

so wordlessly, so wordlessly,
so unlike me, so much like me.