Wildlife watching,
Seeing beetles hopscotching
Through the water or on land -
I can hold them in my hand
And feel the tiny feet of another whole entire creature
Use me as a foreign landscape.

Gifted land, forgotten land, land with history at its very core;
There is so much more
Than what our senses tell us, When we are hunting, seeking
For finches, or reed bunting,
Peeking into pools which appear
On a clear day after rainfall.

We can find surprises, secrets,
Spot flycatchers, orchids,
Spotted, common,
Fields of grasses, armies of different liveries,
Liverworts, bistort, grass of Parnassus,
We can find the lichens,
Liken them to patterns,
Watch the scattering of seeds as seasons yield
And feel ourselves in place, find our own space,
Breathe, on heath or woodland,
Forest floor, on mossy moor.

We wildlife watch but we belong;
We help to make our planet strong if we just sing its song -
It isn’t wrong
To love, to care
And share our awareness of why
We are blessed
To live in this wonderful wonderful place.