halftwo
Wird Batcher
From here the path curves upwards between lichen green walls which shelter bilberry and blackberries and the willow herbs' gossamer seeds roll in the lee and swarm in the sunshine.
The low sun squeezes between the spindly trunks of young ash and stripes the meadow. Stocky dog-headed rams munch the lush grass and stare across at fattened yews out of their reach.
Above sun-warmed water the last of the Common Darters hunt drowsy insects in cool air.
By the woodland brook bracket fungi sprout from rotting birches: thick juicy steaks jutting horizontally.
Across, against the ridge, the Crows have found two foes: young Sparrowhawks are harried until they plummet to cover.
Here, on the nearest wall Rooks are preening purple-sheened primaries: umbrellas out for drying.
A Rowen copse holds a tit flock and small calls fizz from the leaves. A Goldcrest and the season's last Chiffchaff flit amidst the berries. A crescendo of sound orchestrated by a Kestrel's flight erupts from the trees like a firework. The Kestrel glides to a further perch, blunt-headed and spikey ended and just wonderful in the setting sun.
A Brown Hare hunches, rounded in the grass like an abandoned hat.
And now the curve of the path comes full circle to end the day.
The low sun squeezes between the spindly trunks of young ash and stripes the meadow. Stocky dog-headed rams munch the lush grass and stare across at fattened yews out of their reach.
Above sun-warmed water the last of the Common Darters hunt drowsy insects in cool air.
By the woodland brook bracket fungi sprout from rotting birches: thick juicy steaks jutting horizontally.
Across, against the ridge, the Crows have found two foes: young Sparrowhawks are harried until they plummet to cover.
Here, on the nearest wall Rooks are preening purple-sheened primaries: umbrellas out for drying.
A Rowen copse holds a tit flock and small calls fizz from the leaves. A Goldcrest and the season's last Chiffchaff flit amidst the berries. A crescendo of sound orchestrated by a Kestrel's flight erupts from the trees like a firework. The Kestrel glides to a further perch, blunt-headed and spikey ended and just wonderful in the setting sun.
A Brown Hare hunches, rounded in the grass like an abandoned hat.
And now the curve of the path comes full circle to end the day.
