Stepping lightly towards the gravelled drive,
my feet cannot help but crunch.
A landscape,
hidden behind a glaze of frozen dew,
lays before me in this stillness of the October morn'.
My breath becoming a tangible being;
birthed into shape and dying back amongst its solemn kin.
An instant where the time-clocks pause,
and a glorious moment on the great ribbon takes hold.
And for a second it is lovely,
when the sounds and winds and creatures don't stir;
With only my pulse for company.
"Breathe me in", it says.
Knowing it cannot hold back the march of life much more.
"Breathe me in", it begs,
for the sun is nearly alive.
Connemara's Rising is solely a division of David Brunner's Intellectual gifts.
© 2004 David Brunner
