This place. These stones. This river. These trees. They flow in my blood. They live in my bones. They have been a part of me for half a century. They are my oldest teachers, my first friends. They are with me : : always.
Through a small window in a hedge of tall Ash trees, a moth flies to the moon; and in the still and silent night, with a hint of autumn air, I hear the sea. written by moonlight 2.30am BST 27th July 2013