A clear sky
A cooling breeze
My moorland oak
In full leaf shining
A dozen Lapwing
On emerald pasture
Between the calling of the Curlew
and the music of the lark
Their treasure is whispering
Oh, Beautiful hare
Stay away from the light
Find your way
in the quiet of the night
This wild world
is a dangerous place
And even our gods
are mortal.
#CoSopoetry