Benedict Williams has taken an late evening stroll and writes:
A Tapestry of dusk.
When the sun surrenders to western hills its embers fading in a smouldering light
When trees weave leaves into blankets to shelter the forest for the night
When vision is traded for second sight.
When invisible rain falls from the clearest skies and builds jewels of moisture upon every hide.
When the air becomes heavy and enwraps my skim as though to let my soul to swim.
When songbirds sing themselves to sleep and Badgers stir from within the deep
When in this dusk before the night where dark is woven across the light,
The woodland realm is my magic place, my souls delight.
The Unexpected meeting ......
