The subtle breeze surfed in on a gust.
Somehow under the shelter of the hill,
it loss all the fuss.
Mellowed out and danced through the trees.
Kissed the cheeks of the witnesses,
brought a slight buzz of the bees.
Crows of the distance,
whinge of the winds punch.
It unsettles their search,
for some lonesome scavenging lunch.
They know not of the bliss pocket,
only encountering a sweet breeze.
Whispering gently in my ear,
till the stars grow above the trees.
© Deon Heemskerk 1-2-2013