Towards the light.

 
 
Hedges shaved like slaves
and fields as a sterile factory on the moon,
only the lone pheasant and gloom,
no dormice dancing, no secret raves.
 
I walked down the hidden lane,
by the old stone church,
the fox and owl do gain,
scratching hens the cock perch.
 
Suddenly an oasis of life,
a red kite  flashes out of the dense cover,
a puddle of sparrows,
ravens, magpies and crows
and there in the whispering air,
my star and sacred brother.
 
As I left this sweet place,
having looked upon his face,
the ragged hedges,
long stands of rowan, holly  tall and stick,
natures bountiful trick.
 
God's larder for the wild and free,
kind loving  company .
 
I went into the church
and gave thanks, 
the good shepherd's,
kingfisher ranks.

~