Between hanging branches, <br />Patched into a green glade <br />Of beech, ash and elder, <br />I strayed in the cool shade. <br /> <br />A shimmer of midges <br />Flashed, fluttering in free-flight, <br />Sprites sparkling in silver, <br />Mist-mirrors of sunlight. <br /> <br />I, musing, meandered <br />Alone with my headphones, <br />Mind swimming in Elgar, <br />In march-along band tones. <br /> <br />A pastoral idyll <br />Away from the humdrum? <br />In fact, to be truthful, <br />The suburbs of London: <br /> <br />Church Path in North Finchley, <br />Just back from the High Road, <br />A daily diversion, <br />A break before workload. <br /> <br />A short cut each morning, <br />A miniature pleasure, <br />A tincture so tranquil, <br />This tucked-away treasure.<br /><br />C Richard Miles<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tucked-away-treasure/
