Kipsie

By Kipsie

I am not old, she said,

I am rare.

I am the standing ovation
at the end of the play.

I am the retrospective
of my life
as art.

I am the hours
connected like dots
into good sense.

I am the fullness
of existing.

You think I am waiting to die
but I am waiting to be found.

I am a treasure,
I am a map,
these wrinkles are imprints
of my journey.

Ask me anything.

- Bentlily.

The groups of silver birch dotted across the heath land give it a bit of zing, or should that be bling, at this time of year, as the leaves slowly open in the sunshine.
Saw my first swallows as I was driving into the village this morning.
The thrushes were singing their hearts out, the chiff chaffs chiff chaffing, a tiny mouse sussing out a dig out along the footpath, then what was possibly stoat dashing across the field below. Beautiful birdsong surrounding us.
Coop shop for Mum, & myself followed by coffee & Danish. We were chatting about birdsong, Mum commenting that she'd only heard the blackbird recently so I suggested we jumped in the car and take a walk along the railway track where I was earlier. The thrushes did'nt disappoint. :-D Then we caught a quick glimpse of the dipper down on the river.

I made turkey & mushroom pies for dinner tonight. Yum!

Now it's time to Beat The Chasers.

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