Farm's warmth
Wet foggy morning,
a shy daylight wakes me up with the birds music.
The cats heard my voice, they call me to have their breakfast.
Before my coffee, I am their waitress.
I look at them while they eat, they look happy, so do I.
The sun starts to show
as the fog is fading away,
not a jumper needed,
but only short sleeves in a gifted sunny day by nearly winter.
Cows are milked and they go out to graze in the green meadows.
This is the country, where the time seems to stop,
where the stress is confused
and faded away with the early fog.
We feed the pigs, rabbits and chickens.
They look at us so grateful.
I go out for a walk among the chestnut trees watching the crows chasing the hawks, listening to every note the little birds sing.
Chilly nightime with a clear sky,
bright stars to contemplate,
a reverie for the eyes watched from the farm's warmth.
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