In rambling orchards where the birds sing, I wander lost to human things, In green blouses of dangling leaves, I drink the dew that evening weaves.

The trees hold secrets mirrored here, That time is but a fleeting sphere, What once was gold is now the grey; The petals scatter in silent play.

But as I roam the quiet glades, Amongst the reeds and willow shades, A symphony of night unspools, In harbors soft as darkling pools.

Each twig that snaps, each wind that sighs, Stirs memories dating back to skies, Of childhood dreams that wandered free, Beneath the billowed canopy.

And when the dusk begins to rest, Before the stars appear at best, I take a moment, let it pass, To bask in beauty, like warm grass.

• Edward Thomas