There I was in the sunny shine shiny.
Apposite the Alps, wearing my best burlap, with berry and leaf applique.
Knapsack number eleven over the left shoulder, loosely slung.
Greyhound, red eyes, nipping at the ankles of my bare feet.
Stepping over the cliffside.
Behind me to the right, the foal of a chestnut mare looks on,
at the journey of
Or perhaps, s/he was just eyeing the ten and one, white lillies to my left:
yet still, and
looking up upon.