A quiet Sunday morning walk,
with just the sound of flittering birds,
as the dogs and I traverse the country lanes.
Further on, the cry of new-born lambs
from a field, a distance away,
that is dotted with many off-white clouds of fleece.
Other fields have grazing cows,
quieter in their ruminations,
while yet others are carpeted with growing crops of an unknown type.
Two horses freely digest their findings,
conversing sparingly with their neighbours, another herd of grazing cows.
I tip my hat to the morning,
and offer thanks
Graeme Sandford 