Keith R. Hirons

(Coventry, West Midlands, UK)

Virtual Fields

Sun Breaks over Oak,
Pushing back nights dark cloak,
Who's fingers black the colours do choke. Grass glistens with dew,
Waits to wet the clumsy shoe,
Cascading out a rainbow hue. Spiders weave silken thread,
Broken where things do tread,
To hunt, browse or cover fled. Fieldmice cling to stalks of rye,
To nibble then listen for hawks cry,
Who's hunting means they may die. Butterfly's dance on flower heads,

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