Treading Through Thornbury.

On Monday, I saw a robin perching on a twig, silhouetted
​ by the sparkling moon. It stood still, surveying its world,
then jumped to the sky.

On Tuesday, I tasted the fresh winter’s air, savouring the
chilly sweetness that rolled in my mouth. A shiver rolled
down my spine, and I kept walking.

On Wednesday, I walked to the market, the fresh smell
of roasted chestnuts wafting around my nose. I approached,
glimpsing the chestnuts ​like spherical cookies.

On Thursday, a house gazed down at me in Oakleaze
Lane. It smiled, and the flawless flowers rustled among
themselves.

On Friday, I heard an ornate windchime tinkle peacefully,
slightly tilted by the weeping wind.

On Saturday, I felt the silky smoothness of the pebbles by
the leaf-covered road. The pebble was dotted, in the
shape of the sun.

On Sunday, I dreamed of a promenade​, with people
strolling happily, and children laughing and jumping. A dog
jumped up, and playfully waded in the sea, ignoring the passing
driftwood.