Pulling the doona
up over my head -
cold feet.
Another winter solstice comes, and goes, here in South Eastern Australia.
The solstice always makes me feel like we should be heading off to some deserted rural location, and building a massive bonfire, and drinking large qualities of home-made beer (flavoured with pine needles), and tearing off most of our clothes . . . and painting ourselves with woad . . . and . . . and . . . cavorting . . .
So, who’s with me?
Anyone . . . ? No one . . . ?
Oh, fine then. I’m going back to bed.
Read my other posts and haiku, here.
hook turn 