The great woodland surrounds the whole, heavy boughs breathing in the buffeting breeze. Every leaf astir with the rufflling gusts from below. With chaotic symmetry like dancing hands every upright standing plant moves with the same cadence. Summers scirocco unties the knotted spine of old England's staunch defenders.
The beanfield baked and astir with insect life presents its frayed hem to the hazy eye as lazy by the stream chuckles at each rill and rock. Kingfisher or fleeting Finch cuts from under hedge and dives for cover in the shady bank where leaves grow large and shield and hide.
The red stain of poppy head spreads like a painters stroke through the yellow green mass of late summers rape seed. The roll of hill and perching thicket picks out each turn and fold of the valley. Another light evening stretches ahead as the well trod road unwinds before me.
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