Not all those who wander are lost.

                                    
                                        ( After, hay-on-wye and the golden valley)
                                        .
Everything can be suddenly changed
the crazy doodles of the heart,
among valleys, under trees
find smooth tempered words,
make up for the lengths, that we take
to hide ourselves, from minds archive,
with  distracted voices of calmness
we can leave a trail of thought,
follow the untethered leaf
and later make a poem,
under the muttering sky
catch the stars falling,
being grateful that
we can still breathe.