I love the grasses in this place-

They grow up higher than my face.

I love the sky behind the treeline

And the bay when the tide is in.

A dog came up and licked my cheek once!

Usually they make a beeline

For the sea, jump in and swim.

I climb the hills in summer season,

Teeter where the ground’s uneven

As my feet go opposite ways.

I quickly jump onto the track.

In summer it’s too overgrown

To cut across there anyway.

Even in spring I must turn back.

I love to lie here when it’s sunny;

Want to get a tan like honey,

But I put on too much cream.

I’m too afraid of getting burned,

And so my skin remains quite pale.

My ideas too are all a dream:

Impractical, not baked or turned.