Walk in the woods

Very autumnal now. The earth is settling to rest. There's promise in the buds already on the twigs and in the acorns lying secure in untilled soil.

Wind in leaves. Rooks crossing stubble fields above the Reserve. Busy blue tits. Long-tailed tits in constant conversation.

A dry leaf falls with a soft clatter.

In the distance, engines: chainsaw, digger, plane, car. The sound is dulled by wind and cloud.

Trees toss their tresses in the breeze––the remainder of spring.

The temperature drops with rain––but, on the horizon, pure blue.

I long to feel your eyes upon me, hare, fox, roe buck, stoat. I long for the stealthy rustle of your tread.