soft summer thoughts come to me
breezy and on the breeze with the blackbird's singing
the pin-pricked umbrella of a very good night
I count them idley and it doesn't matter
smiling they will wait for me
the sky is an undulating waterbed
cradle and gentle shaper of dreams
soft music heard in quiet
and tiny start at a distance
drifting sailing soaring falling freely nothing is to fear

J. Horne