Fields of wheat, soft as brushed cotton billowing like mothers sheets.
Dog rose, wild geranium and clematis
weaving amongst the apple trees, inspired by discarded cores.
Old rusty rails run adjacent to my bicycle wheels.
kamikaze birds dart across my path and disappear into the undergrowth.
strangers smile and greet me, their moods lightened by the sun.
It must be catching, I smile and pedal on.