Kestrels are calling
High over the spindly wood
The winter sky is silver
Rooks fly close by
The hush of air
Rushing through their wings
Today the moor is glowing gold
Spectacular
Under brightening beams
Of silver light
Like the grey sails
Of ancient ships
Pale showers
Are blown down the valley
Curtains closing
On another year
#CoSopoetry