Moss grows on the lean-to shed roof
The singer sings of soft red roses
The guitar player picks away at the weeds
Stillness stands all about, through to the horizon
Another day without a wind; smoke clouds
Postcards on the mat, waiting by the door
Would love have walked any gentler way
With apple crumble and clotted cream
A smile deepened with each return
Unsteady for a few moments
Eyes back into the landscape
Plans laid out by Capability Brown
One step and then one other
Taken with a tremble into the cool breeze
