Basingstoke Photos

Know this place,

The touch of deer still silent eye upon the nape of neck,

The unseen scent of fox rust-red and quick to ground,

The softened littered leaf and gentle mossened brown,

With pad walk certain slow upon this bed of dewy earth,

With lonesome peal of bird through rush of mammoth oak,

Through ash that rises far to cloud,

Through cloak of beech and pillared pine,

To river sky look on,

Dark green the leaves of night fall full as owl call close,

As light once more with flaxen blush to east begins,

The day's reluctant rush,

Become, between,

The rise of breath my wonderment and natured kin.