North Chestermans - photo by Christine Lowther
When the rainclouds
lower themselves
and disappear the mountains,
when it starts to get dark at three o'clock,
the sky is so laden with moisture,
when the river is rising up
over its banks,
so pregnant is it
with November rain,
when mother bear and her cub
stir in the bushes at the end of the road
looking for their winter den,
and the old horse shivers
under her blanket
in the leanto,
waiting to go into the barn
and call it a day,
I smile all the way home,
knowing my cosy room awaits,
fireplace and candles,
pretty lights flickering,
warmth and comfort.
Gratitude.
Gratitude.
Gratitude for it all.
