The Mill standing still
the distance is far
Yellows, and green,
a floor carpet is seen
Taking me nearer
to the scene,
not far
Purple Lavender,
butterfly heads,
swaying in the wind
The scent of the passing,
has touched this land,
but the Mill I can see,
they want this as the focus,
they are telling me
A place of tranquil peace,
where the eyes have a feast,
and, the centuries,
play out their lease,
as nature, and heritage,
Is never owned by man,
or beast

© 2021 Carol Natasha Diviney