Darkling, the owl’s song: book

‘I turn
to the old orchard
where she hunts:
a ghost glimmering
sweet heart of the moon.
Swooping between trees,
a beating clock of claw and feather,
hush winged, in half light’

As we sleep, the forest comes to life. The owl swoops. Moths dance in the moonlight, fireflies mimic the stars, a stag grazes, badgers burrow, foxes prowl, ferns catch the dew.

Resplendent, arresting artwork sit alongside an original poem.