This County, This Countryside

There’s a footpath
that winds ’round

the county, dear.
Lower and lower

it goes and deeper
into the mist,

down valleys
the color of amethyst.

Midnights, I slip
on my slippers and robe.

Hoping our dreams
will coincide,

I follow every hedge
and open every gate

for miles, until
I’ve wound round

the countryside
again, satisfied,

this isn’t the night
I’ll find you.

–January 12, 2018