I have hope
of animals in fields, wandering.
Their path shifted
to something new
and kind.
A whisper of change
that rushes louder
in tall branches
and sleeping blossoms.
As light fades
and moonlight drifts,
pouring over mountain tops.
It kisses the world.
I want to believe in
sticky stars
and cat whisker tickles
of childhood.
Of feet on wet grass
and summer smiles.
A return to something pure.
To release the hardship,
conflict and hatred of others.
Put down the banner
and finally sink into rest,
feet-up.
The gentle thrum of potential
of humans gone wild,
native-attuned,
attempting to come together.
To delight in
self-worth without
power and eradication,
cruelty and discord.
A balance.
A shift.
A hope?
I have hope
of animals in fields, wandering.
Of humans with bare feet on grass.
As the world turns
and our paths shift,
to something new
and kind.
Ink drawing - caricature, self image © J.H. Dickinson
Art © J.H. Dickinson
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