In the Meadow. A poem by Fran Bardsley

They surge into the meadow like an unstoppable force;
Two golden retrievers unleashed, fueled by pure unbridled joy
Their long hair warmed by the touch of late afternoon sun
Impossibly soft and shiny.
They leap and cartwheel,
Race and roll in the grass,
Before collapsing, panting, in a giggling heap.

As they skip, hand in hand, along the banks of the stream,
Exchanging confidences and moments of wonder,
The arguments of the morning –
The fighting
The sniping
The unkind words –
Are as nothing.
All is forgotten.

Here in the meadow,
With their laughter interrupted only by
The rushing stream and
The snap of twigs underfoot,
They can be sisters again.

On the way home,
They hold the warmth of that afternoon in their hearts.
They chatter and cajole and tease.
But they do not seek to provoke.
There is no meanness here, now.
Today, they will not be caged birds.
Today, they are free.


A journalist for 10 years, Fran now works in marketing and PR in the education sector and writes as much as she can. Older writings can be found here:

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