Bogey lane wood

Light funnels through trees;seaweed green, mermaid’s tailsunderground caverns.Branches crack, a startled doeflickers by: I’m wood water wetstinging rain in my facehoof beats glance off flintslow canter then a sprintto the corner of the hill.Way below all of England’s greenlaid out in pocket symmetryred poppies dissect hills;chalk snatched hand graftedabove sleeping cottageswhere song of nightingalewaits to taunt me.