Down At The Roots
I'd spent some time there
on exquisite dunes,
before a gust blew in from Belvedere
and played a melody like looney tunes.
I slip and plummet down the slopes,
a copse awaits and breaks a careless fall,
awakened are, through scents, forgotten hopes.
Is this the foyer to a long lost Royal Hall?
And pleasant is the ambience, I stay because it suits.
An ancient melody, its plaintive promise sweet,
as moisture trickles down to thirsty roots
and whets the appetite, there in the heat.