The Hare’s are on the Move!
With the morning mist upon the rise,
Where the Buzzard circles the low hung skies,
The rolling fields run on by in a milky haze,
As I wind along my journey – from the parting of the ways!
Opening out from the gentle bend – the field reaches for the hills,
Three Roe Deer hind set a casual scene as I stand against the chills,
With their heightened grace they mill their way – to the far side of my view,
As Partridges amble along the side of the road – like they’ve got nothing else to do!
With a greeting of a nod from the Daffodils – my arrival goes unseen,
Dancing in the breeze they wave a welcome as they burst out of the green,
With a blazing glory of sunlit yellow they glow a smile upon the day,
Watching over the gathered Snow Drops – for an entrance I should say!
The Crows a collective in all their forms – retiring to their tree,
A Pheasant tip-toes from edge to edge – as nervy as can be,
With a coat of paint the day begins and the morning makes up its bed,
Hanging around to warm and dry in the Sun – with a breakfast to be fed!
Over the crest to the southern eastern – a Hare is on the move,
The first spring sighting of the awakening wheel – the needle’s in the groove,
Before too long – he’s skirting the climb in the east and the hedgerow to our ditch,
In and out of view through the strands of the undergrowth – mapping out his pitch
As he reaches the corner he moves through the hedge and weaves on up the crest,
As he dissolves from view at the top of the hill – there is movement northern west,
There’s a lighter Hare and it wanders there – as the sheep fence leads its way,
Down along its length where it ends in the north and blends in with the day!
Tidied are the lines of the outer pathway – the flow is now complete,
The Orchard builds with buds of leaf and blossom – passionate yet discreet,
With the Mole Hills raked and put to use – the lanterns cleaned and primed,
A fire is consuming and gives us our ash – when a warming comes well timed!
At the top of the rise the Hare it watches as I contemplate his view,
When the lighter Hare appears in the south at the bottom – as I watch it all ensue,
Like a bolt from the blue the light Hare motors – like the pinball from its spring,
Up the rise of ground – with speed no sound – what a sprinter – what a thing!
The Hare holds his ground as they come to a close – the lighter starts to slow,
Coming face to face and eye to eye – there’s no boxing on the show,
With a moment shared they bid their welcome and part in separate ways,
To the top of the hill and down to the west and out of my watchful gaze!
And so then – two by two – the exit’s due – in the building of the breeze,
Fixing firm and wrapping up against the blow – in the crowning of the trees,
As we head toward our timely sunset – you could say it with a smile,
With a happy heart and sense of peace and the birdsong all the while!