The M.H.X. Chronicals
Author: marshalg

Chapter 8
Wet Winter Weekend

 

It's Winter in New Zealand

The rain is pelting down,

The Overseers have knocked us off

When hazards do compound.

With trenches deep and slippery

Where mud lies inches thick,

Where excavators plunge nearby

It's prudent to be quick.

 

So a Winter's afternoon at home

With puddles on the ground,

The orange tree outside windblown

As bright fruit tumbles down.

Reflections through the window pane

Of grey skies overhead,

A cold beer by my elbow

Where I'm warm and dry instead.

 

A wet weekend with my sweet heart

So fondly lies before,

Where easy things in easy time

Crack open leisure's door.

Where sleeping late is mandatory

In a languid, loving way

And some steaming cappuccino's sipped

At my favourite cafe.

 

Warm glow in the morning

Contentment is supreme,

Anxiety has lost it's cause

Simplicity is the dream.

Spontaneously happy

For the slow wet days ahead,

Forty eight hours of glorious rest

Then back to earn my bread.

 

Marshalg

@theBatch

Mangere Bridge

14 August 2009

 

 

 

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