St David's Head
29th May
Kneeling to breathe the fresh fragrance of chamomile; face to the ground; nose to the earth.
A meadow pipit nest deep in heather. Through a rounded tunnel, the smooth comfort of a grass-lined nest within the chaotic, twiggy, abrasive heather. Four chicks gaping in bright red and yellow.
The happy song of a wren greets me daily in the blue light before dawn. It says Morning.
Later, feeding near my window, the swallows – Summer.
Through the heathland, high above my head, skylarks proclaim Joy.
While the ubiquitous blackbird never ceases to amaze with its song of Beauty.