Turn through the gate
And you’ll be at Peace Field
A meadow, full of knee-high, soft, wild grasses
Mixed with blues of corn flowers
Yellows of buttercups
Purple ragged-robins
And browns and whites
Of butterflies and moths
On your left a mown path
Winding through the orchard
Still holding pink blossom
On spreading boughs
.
To the right, in the corner
Look for the chimney pipe
An L-shaped black metal tube
With a solar panel by its side
It is a round structure of canvas
Stretched on a lattice frame
Green cover pulled tight
Sitting on a level wooden platform
With table and chairs to match
It has a near perfect heart-shaped window cut in the door
Which is close enough to perfect
Clichéd as it sounds
.
A hedge thick with brambles
Runs beside it
Gives shelter from the east
When winter winds blows in.
.
If you come by night
When the moon is full
Owls will call you on
Glow-worms light the path
You’ll smell apple wood smoke
Burning in the stove
Bring nothing
Just your book of spells
.
n.b. This is a real place. Precise directions omitted for obvious reasons. A yurt can only accommodate so many poets and witches; but oh! so many.
Day 2 prompt: a place.
02/04/2020 Christopher Perry
