Gibside Hare: Late August 2017.

Walking deep inside wild woodland; Far from modernity's crude sheen, We came across a light brown hare: A pleasure so rare given the gloom We glimpsed its stone still silhouette; Half sunken in wizened heather; Trying hard to forget the pangs Of primal fear; its ears Had most acutely Mapped out our coming. One may surmise, that its' racing heart Willed the wind to whisk us far away, From its half baked hideout in the heather. Then suddenly… exploding into life, From its tiresome attempt at statue, It fled to play a game much more satisfying. We watched in wonder as it disappeared Over the horizon to be with creatures: Blessed with a similar free born nature; Sunned by the spirit of fresh greening fields;