.  If Braille could squint out

      through this mornings

   window, he’d be surprised

    to see water buds dotting

the rear side of a pellucid page.


   Our deciduously decorated

  forecourt is a coded jigsaw, of

which we are unable to decipher.

Foliage on the foolscap, dunce'd

   by a lifetime of urbanisation.


Sheared sheep stand sentinel,

horses New Zealand'ly rugged

in Romney Marsh and Merino,

nickering amongst themselves,

downwind of an unuttered Ha Ha.


Hen is on her own, **** of the

walk and doodling as one does

in retirement, clocks going back

soon, roost earlier, longer nights,

  always the up side of winter.


Bluebell hob nobs on the AGA,

whilst, both Arthur and Henry  

Labradoriously share a settee,

attentively listening for the belfry

and the clamour of food bowls.




Staverton Hall is in Nottinghamshire
near the town of Daventry, where we
are currently minding a menagerie of
sheep horses two dogs a cat and 1 hen.

Google Staverton Hall,