How I love
How I love an early morning walk,
Along an empty sunlit path.
Where the morning doves hover,
Against a polished blue sky.
And the willows weep,
Into the water's edge.
No sound but birdsong,
And the lap of the lake,
Against breakwaters of tumbled stones.
No breath or breeze,
To stir the green canopy of leaves,
Heavy with dew
Nothing to disturb my quiet repose,
Nothing,
No one,
Not even you.
