This poem by Rose Cook from my book Hearth
available from me or http://www.culturedllama.co.uk/
This year the weather changed with rain
and cooler in the North, hints of autumn.
When our children were small, we always held a party
when August began. Each wore a crown.
The barley fields wave theirs in a golden sea.
Farmers will begin to gather the grain.
My mother took us bilberrying up on the moors.
A whole wild day scrambling through heather.
Special sandwiches and pop.
* my new book Hearth is available from me or http://www.culturedllama.co.uk/
Poem and photograph Rose Cook
Let go of what has passed.
Let go of what may come.
Let go of what is happening now.
Don’t try to figure anything out.
Don’t try to make anything happen.
Relax, right now, and rest.”
photograph Rose Cook