A Field of Saplings

A field of saplings bend in the breeze, their leaves turning and winking in unison with each gust.

The wind has picked up since the heatwave broke, and last nights rain has brushed the parched grasses with an undercoat of green.

Over the crest of the far hill a windmill’s blade tips rise and fall, chopping rhythmically at the horizon.

Last night a barn owl ghosted across this view.