There’s something in the mist this morning,
Alongside the hypnotic perfume of Linden tree
and the ritual chant of Heron.
Sliding through the awakening canopy within
shafts of this new dawn, reaming the damp.
Conjuring the Chaffinch call and Gnat dance
into a heady brew of the year’s turning.
Creating the golden deeps from soil dark forest floor.
Unseen voices trip their way through the somnolent syrupy summer’s ending
Welcoming the magic.
Shot with Crow caw and Pheasant bluster.
Textured with autumn’s promise and Roe deer stare.
There’s something in the mist this morning.