Shady acres of nothing but space with blackbirds and magpies in their intricate dance…mocking and sparring awaiting their chance. Curiosity watches over the shoulder of oblivion, drawing up the lines of a stalemate only ever escaped through admitting the choice, reluctant to pick a fight it may not win. The brook leads the eye ahead to the fall. Despondency still roaming in the top of the sycamores, unaware it has no part to play. Twiddling thumbs as it all goes astray;
Watch the birdies… and come now what may.