by Sid de Knees

Created on: October 18, 2009

On shanks.

Would seem the day is mine to play,
all plans are made for staying in,
while autumn grips my little isle,
I'd much prefer to shake my shin,

and raise my shank in search of views,
up high above white frosted lakes.
I'd tred along thin gravel paths,
the mindfull walker gently takes,

and find a rock, on high, to rest,
and drink my homemade chicken broth,
then dip my bread til I am full,
and wrap my litter in a cloth.

And when I'm back I'll share my tale,
beside the flames while drinking ale.

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