Reading Mrs Dalloway ...

I'm reading Mrs Dalloway under the apple tree, lolling sunburnt in a cane chair  - 

Above my head, the small apples hang from the branches - 

I walk barefoot upon its fallen leaves -

A wanton sun hangs low in the cloudless sky - 

Small birds fly across the garden -  

Our swimming costumes are drying upon the line - 

We can still taste salt on our fingertips - 

Anne is sunbathing, wearing a torn straw hat - 

Each day now, more leaves will fall from the apple tree - 

The carvers will leave the gentle town - 

Sultry afternoons will give way to mornings of pale rain - 

16.56

Tuesday 30 August 2016

The Old School House

East Stoke

Dorset