And sheep lie panting on each old molehill
And underneath the willow’s grey-green bough
Like toil a-resting lies the fallow plough
The timid hares throw daylight fears away
On the lane road to dust and dance and play
Then dabble in the grain by nought deterred
To lick the dew-fall from the barley’s beard
Then out they sturt again and round the hill
Like happy thoughts – dance – squat – and loiter still
Till milking maidens in the early morn
Gingle their yokes and sturt them in the corn
Through well-known beaten paths each nimbling hare
Sturts quick as fear – and seeks its hidden lair
A hare encounter, a set on Flickr.
Today I had a magical experience. Two hares ran out of the woods towards me. They stopped and sat for a bit before turning and running back into the woods at the exact spot where they came out.
The whole thing lasted about 90 seconds.
We took it as a good omen
Isn’t it a beautiful day!
The birds are feasting on the insects in the blossom.