As the dusk of a still
And a silent eve,
Descends to the arms
Of the waiting night.
Descends to the arms
Of the waiting night.
A rustle does sound
Through the lying leaves,
And the brittle twigs
Of the dying wood.
Through the lying leaves,
And the brittle twigs
Of the dying wood.
The cautious eyes
And a wary stare,
Emerge from the dark
Of the hidden sett.
And a wary stare,
Emerge from the dark
Of the hidden sett.
As the badger roams
In the quest for food,
Through the bones
Of the tracks he wore.
In the quest for food,
Through the bones
Of the tracks he wore.
Andrew Blakemore
Art Jemima Jameson
Art Jemima Jameson
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