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.