Doe a deer, a female deer. Lying in the fields to my left. We’re on a regional train to Gruenau Im Amtal. It’s a slow going with an ‘I think I can, I think I can’ but we’ve just curled our way up and around a small mountain.
Ray a drop of golden sun. It’s the first time in a while that we’ve had even a drip. We’re in dresses and shorts, the windows are down on our one-carriage train and the sun is hot on my skin.
Me a name I call myself. I think I’ve found a bit more of myself in this country of pure beauty. With it’s elegance, and culture, peace and glorious works of creation.
Far, a long, long way to run. We’re under the alps now. And I stand next to a stream that is see-through. Ice cold, my feet are cold ice. All I hear is water falling and creepers humming and my feet are cool after a day of carrying me and my bags around.
Sew a needle pulling thread. My clothes are dirty. They’ve been washed in Vienna and strung up around the room and they still have the smell of hard travel.
La a note to follow sew. I can sing high into the heavens from here. And they’ll hear me, I’m that close.
Tea a drink with jam and bread. None of that here, it’s hearty food for the adventurer; of crisp apple strudel and schnitzel with noodles.
That will bring us back to…