Under the moon, bare branches drenched in beams of silver white.
The early morning mist hangs and drifts through the small woodland and across the recreation ground. The ground is lightly frosted with dew drench. The darkness is intimate under the moon’s gaze. I pause from my slow amble to lean against an oak tree. Catching the full gaze of the golden haloed moon on my face, I rest in a holy communion. Melting into the majesty and magic of the moment. Day break is an hour away. In the distance the A38 rumbles and sighs a song of multi wheeled travel as tyres warm its surface. In the wood all is peaceful, the tree feels warm against my back, so I rest a while longer as Burt stands close, scenting the unseen wildlife, as the night shift settles and the day shift start to stir.
Bliss.
Deep gratitude to this place, these beings and for this moment.