Beneath the Strawberry Moon
by Annie Jenkin

A Spanish market stall
displays it rich, delicious
varieties of fruit, strawberries
giant, juicy, and luscious.

Though none could compare
to our night sky's beauty
of Spring's Strawberry Moon
slipping behind the hills,

setting ablaze mauve heather
that burns until light fades.
By morning, the woodlands
and countryside awakes,

alive with sounds of Spring,
blackbirds, cuckoo or Dartford
warbler with its red iris's
and chestnut brown breast.

Yet, as night fall descends
a night jar, silhouetted
by red hues, feasts on moths,
at rest, looking like a piece of bark.

It is not the names to be learnt,
but the simple enjoyment
of listening, observing,
being part of nature at her best.


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