Long grasses sift the evening windscent it with pollensstars prickle through high cloud somewhere, Skylark still singsfinishing the day shiftelsewhere, Owl callsannouncing night dusk empties the landof humanityall close togetherin their dim shelters here on the ridgeHare comes closecloserblack tipped ears erect we return her starefor what seemsforever Copyright © 2022 Kim Whysall-Hammond Written for […]

High on the Downs