visiting the country...Wagner kind...

'This silent and cool afternoon...
the nestlings playing...
the trees waving as if self possessed...
and a Wagner...
die walkure...
the second one of the four operas...'

he getting sunk
thought of an idyllic pasture...
a small cottage...
a woman
serving him food meagre...
and
the wood pecker
chipping into an oak...
some three hundred fifty year old...
chipping in
with a rhythm...
a tap on hollow  wood
as if,
somewhere a cow mooed...
and a flock of hens seemingly hopped
and played...

a stack of corns...
a farm house with wooden blocks...

a road dusty
a cycle kept idle against a wood post...
rusty...

and all around vast green...
field whispering story of love and peace...

he thought
he had been there...
a million times
in his city bred life...

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