There's A Nestle Down Deep Poem by Jerry Pike

There’s a nestle down deep in the Kentlands,
‘long a bramble dressed crawl of a lane,
where the overhang croons Byron’s whispers,
with a swish of falsetto refrain.
Pretty hedgerows of scrambling wildness,
yellow gorse splashes brighter than yolk,
and the bluebells ring church-like in silence,
reverentially bowing their cloak.
The old woods are long dormant of humans,
scarce a decade slinks by since they walked,
not a footprint is bigger than foxes,
and the song thrush is all that has talked.
‘Neath a champagne explosion of willow,
Sleeps an ebonised oak stump, much split,
and on lolling warm ‘surround me’ somedays,
that’s the countryside place I would sit