Last night the moon rose red into the sky. Deep red fading to copper gold as she lifted. And when she was deep red the shadow thief stole all the moonshadows.
This morning we walked into the bright day.
On the high hill top the dogs ran wild after a red fox. He was wild and fleet fox footed and She watched as he twisted around and tricked the dogs, then up over the hill, fast on narrow paths through low thorn trees. Rosie picked up his scent and away they went again.
On top of the hill the air was still. A raven watched, a buzzard too. We rested a while in the gorse scented air and then back down again, through the rich green of the fields to the songs of skylarks.