Quintessence

On the outskirts of a village,

Beside a country road,

Where tractors transport silage

And other heavy loads,

A sturdy signpost makes it clear

To those who care to read it here

The presence of a public path

And a red postbox beside it.

Who walks that rutted track

With trusty dog or friend

Across green fields and back

In sun, snow, rain and wind?

Do walkers post letters on the way

And is the box filled every day?

Quintessence

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s