The Amble

It's the only true beauty I alone see,
To stimulate the eye, is paradise made.
To sit and ponder around an ancient tree,
As the sun hits, shadows delayed.
To wish the orange hues of all things.
I would walk endless miles ambushed by shade,
As I wait for enchanting birds, and to he who sings.
Alive they are of desperate flight made.
In the distance a rock of ledges,
I relish the touch of all things alive.
Full of sun- kissed hope and pledges.
I tread this chalk sand with widened eyes.
I wade in rippled sea, azure- blue,
I'm quite sure you'd walk here too.

Tanya Fillbrook