On this hill <br />I now stand free <br />from the smell of hustle 'n' bustle <br />fume filled cities. <br />Through the shadow <br />of my sun-protecting hat <br />I see real life hiding <br />in the poppy-stained grasses. <br />Avenues of lime <br />fence the country lanes <br />and lead to a single spire, <br />where birth, marriage <br />and the finality of death <br />are sung about from the same book. <br />Beyond the chaple, sheep <br />roam the flayed-fleece fields. <br />A far off forest sits <br />like a black cloud <br />on my horizon... <br /> <br />as I wash my canvass <br />in a watery blue.<br /><br />Ian Bowen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/watered-down-blue/
