The Moon In The Wood

Walking the street on a clear crisp Winter's night in the light of a crescent Moon, Orion tightens his belt in full View of the Plough making furrows In a starry sky. Clara's tail wagging in front of me Held tight on her lead, head down Already racing to the next lamp post. Magpies already fast asleep in the Wood as the night shift stirs in the Dark green depths of a cold night Where even the daffodils sleep. We come to the edge of the wood And Clara's nose works overtime Sniffing the sweet scent of the night. Owl silently perched on the bough Eyes blinking scanning the area for Rodents out taking the night air. Only silence fills the air and peace, Or the hope of peace, prevails.