The Common

The Common by Lindsay Heywood

Such delights await us there
In Summer – wild flowers everywhere,
Willowherb and meadowsweet,
A picnic spot, a rusty seat
Along the path, beside the stream
Which trickles by, meandering
Through grassy banks and stony beds.
And butterflies will turn your head
To see all kinds of beauties here,
A dragonfly, a frog, a deer.
As evening falls, and all is still,
A visit from the barn owl will,
By chance, complete your stay,
And urge you to come back someday.