funky yellow house,

                with its old age,

settling, always, always

                by a dirt

road

 

bulging goat, fat flying,

                dashing, in desire

and impatience

                through the contemporarily

cut grass

 

a voluminous boulder

                stimulates a pirate

ship, the grass surrounding

                it waves in the wind,

crashing

 

immature dogwood trees

                posing on a slope,

soaking up the sunshine

                and taking cover from

the rain

 

teeming trees of apple

                and pear, swaying

protectively around

                the rock, hiding

it away

 

my safeguarded breach,

                tucked away amongst

the trees, keep me

                safe from the world

out there