There is a grassy bank where I sat and waited for people who did not come.Leant myself back against rucksack, expecting damp ground working throughtrousers. Gazed at feet in front, marking grass, crushing stems too brittleto spring upright after I'd left. Became aware of earth uncomfortablyirregular beneath me. Still found contentment watching leaves waving above,clouds moving past behind them. Surrounded with glowing buttercups justabove knee height, vetches below them, unripe seedheads everywhere. Heardwind moving trees, but felt gentle breezes. Warmed by sunlight, tasting blossom on air. Absent others stopped mattering. Life was good.Rosie Waller
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