The countryside sleeps.

As the golden sun sets, over green velvet fields,

stitched neatly together with grey stone walled thread,

the countryside gently settles down to sleep.

The evocative voice of the curlew

slowly begins to fade

as cattle seek shelter, from the nighttime breeze.

A faint whisper of leaves is all that is heard,

as a blanket of silence is thrown over the earth,

and curtains are drawn on the crimson sky.

As darkness prevails there is one final voice

as the owl starts to speak,

and it’s eerie call travels across the night.

We sleep.

 

 

 

Love Alison x