The caps in this...in strange places I think help the eye stop and consider the sounds better....Shrill and Nearest neighbours...

Wickers' Wood

The Big House and farm were sold, The house has been renovated as offices, and the garden and fields now contain a housing estate. Some of the wood still stands as a timber copse.

Night:

Winding wind whispering

Through white willows;

Over broken boughs

Of time worn trees;

Lazily lapping

Their Nearest neighbours

Brooding branches;

In the Eerie empty

Slumbering silence

Of the Wicker Wood.

Morning:

Rabbits romping

Round and round,

Blackbirds’ Shrill sounds

Disturbing darkness.

Grasses glisten.

Dewey dawn

Awakes, each

Rustling russet leaf

As morning murmuring

Fills the Wicker Wood anew.

Day:

Children crouching

Clutching, undashed dreams,

Play patiently,

Unaware

Of loneliness,

Knowing only

loveliness

In the

Timeless tender

Comforting, unclasping

Unknown embrace

Of daytime

In the Wicker Wood

Night:

Darkness draws cool curtains,

Catching

Cows and horses

Hurrying homewards happily.

Descending dreamlike

Picture painting

Figure floating,

Sunset

Settles silently

And Night-time visits

The Wicker Wood again.