Palgrave, Diss

Yesterday I breathed in
new fields, rambling walks up
watery streets
into a grey-stone church
colourful cushions set like books
where hymnals usually wait
maybe the priest wanted
people to take their rest.
not a final one, merely
a quick pisolino
a respite from the day
a few unexpected moments
of dreaming
before being pulled
up to the market for butter, eggs, sausages
across the street to get slippers and some tape
trippingly down the fog – shined cobblestones
alongside the stream
that tries to bury the walkway in mud
in the evenings
when no-one is looking.