Thursday, October 16

The little things

On the radio, a few notes from the skylark's song.

It shifts me back into that sun filled tent that June morning.

Slowly coming awake. Still lazily snug deep in my sleeping bag. A wildcamp high and alone, hidden deep amongst the Dartmoor hills.

I lie listening intently and without distraction to several skylarks, above and around me. Each steadily rising higher into the warming air of dawn. The notes of their song fuelling an ascent into the blue and cloudless void far above.

The radio sounds move on. But I stay with that memory. Touching for a moment the sense of pure contentment.

For a little while longer.



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