WHEN I GO OUT

When I go out of the door
a thousand thoughts flit this way and that,
silver fish in a school scattered by danger,
a roost of crows suddenly taking flight,
a pile of leaves swirled by a sudden gust;
but down along the road the sky is grey and also bright,
the wind is cold and fresh and there’s a distant taste of the sea,
the trees stand tall and still, bare branches high,
the sun turns the sky a brighter platinum,
and the road goes on
where the air is cool and the fields breathe.