. . . past hawthorn hedge, and ash trees high.
Out into meadowlands, towards the setting sun,
through billowing umbillifers, and buttercups bright.
Grass, vetch and clover left tall to mark where our steps should tread . . .
. . . before reaching the open again.
Time measured only by dandelion clocks . . .
. . . and the sun going down.
With apologies to Laurie Lee.