A soft Day

A SOFT DAY

A soft day, thank God!
A wind from the south
With a honeyed mouth;
A scent of drenching leaves,
Briar and beech and lime,
White elder-flower and thyme
And the soaking grass smells sweet,
Crushed by my two bare feet,
While the rain drips,
Drips, drips, drips from the eaves.

A soft day, thank God!
The hills wear a shroud
Of silver cloud;
The web the spider weaves
Is a glittering net;
The woodland path is wet,
And the soaking earth smells sweet
Under my two bare feet,
And the rain drips,
Drips, drips, drips from the leaves.
Winifred M. Letts

A soft day perfectly describes this kind of day. The rain has stopped but everywhere is warmly damp, the grasses sag under the moisture, clouds hang low over the mountains, the cattle sit comfortably in the fields and hair sprouts corkscrews it never normally has.
These grasses did smell sweet but I got mercilessly stung by lurking stinging nettles as I hunkered down amongst them. This little house is now closed, and it has an even older neighbour next to it which I was heading for, but the undergrowth is now so rampant you can hardly see the house let alone the doorway. Not bare feet but I was in my flipflops.


Thanks to JDO for hosting an excellent MonoMonday challenge. A soft extra too.