Thick cloud, had wrapped itself
Around the farm. I climbed the track
With half closed eyes.
Pierce not this softness, single star!
I cannot bear your sharpness!
Keep it away from me!
Do not touch my tender self
For my foolish heart is broken.
I can only hear the silence
And my boots on the tiny stones of the path
And the swish of the dogs
In the verge side as they pass me,
Their thirsty lapping at the puddles,
And the clatter of their paws as they sprint by
Scattering sharp hard core.