A blushing rowan tree
Jewelled and lit
Like my mother
On Christmas Eve.
A partridge knows
The scent of spice
Igniting the air
Like paradise
In summer mist.
The snipe careers
Disturbed skywards
In a zigzag
I crick my neck
In following.
She's lost
And so am I.
Lost in a fog
Over the bog
And where did you lay your egg
My love?
Where did you lay your egg?
#CoSopoetry
@stueytheround thanks so much for reading and appreciating them, Stuey. It makes such a difference knowing that they are read x