The late October rain ran to gallons, filling furrows breaching brook and bridge until even the road overflowed. Morning spread its mists invitingly, with mystery too the way it dampened sounds. I trod the long field path parallel to where fox had pawed the early dew we parted at a Hawthorn the berries there, red and dripping and beyond, in milky incandescence mid distant moors Slippery underfoot, each step of earth a detailed landscape dandelion puffs, white and wet as wool the sheep had left behind. Webs and seed-head beaded beautifully with shine in the long grass where mice had tunnelled summer nests And suddenly out of that thick silence distinct and shrill, larks scaling the heights. Two then three aerial combatants, still singing up and away between forays reinventing boundaries in the sky before the far flung Spring rebounds.
One for Open Link Night where anything goes though Grace as host is offering a food prompt for any of us who are tempted.
PoetryPix 