Happy as a Lark
Time of no consequence on this summer afternoon. Reclining comfortably on the cool grass, my back against the shady oak. Around me gossamer wings of dragonflies work overtime returning my incredulous stare.
Birdsong fills the air as buttercups wave in the breeze. My mind wanders wherever it wishes and I remember childhood family walks through these fields. Being the youngest I’d sit atop my father’s shoulders. My siblings carrying the makings of a picnic our mother would set on a tartan blanket. After, we would play hide and seek and make daisy chains to wear. Happy as larks we would run until exhausted and collapse in a heap under a tree.
Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings. Unrecognizable at first but then as I stir it becomes clearer. The beautiful sound of a summer lark completing my reverie.
Copyright © 2022 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing All Rights Reserved Lisa is hosting Prosery Monday at D'Verse Poets tonight. The line we are to use in our piece of Flash Fiction or Non Fiction is by Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr., from The Chambered Nautilus "Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings" Prosery is exactly 144 words excluding the title. It cannot be poetry.