I’ve drawn a house and a tree
a tree and a swing
a swing and a house.
Amidst the mountains
there is a path
path of dirt
rocky slope
flowery rocks
pink and violet.
I walk past
the old washhouse,
house of the snails and the slugs.
Past the chapel,
a dog barks
I speed ahead
up to the house,
there’s a swing
on top of the meadow below the hill.