A August morning

The heat! 

I can fry an egg on a path in Turkey 

On an August morning. 

The warmth of a fire on a cold, bleak day;

The feeling as I soak up Vitamin D. 

The memory of the bath is soothing. 


With a weeping willow all is joy. 

I remember the colour of the everlasting sand. 


On my finger a snowflake crystallises,

Particles of mass shine down upon me. 

A dry fire of ash. 


Now life begins - 

A path of ice is a faultless cover on a pond. 

A Polar Bear wanders in starvation. 


With a spring in my step

I ride the globe of life.

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