Just an evening amble up the lane from Beaufront Woodhead towards Hadrian’s Wall, that demilitarized zone between Hexham and the empty uplands of Northumberland. The skies were clear, the light sharp and the fields gold. Far up, a hawk fluttered on the hot rising air:
I bend my stone arm up till the hawk
hovering over the hayfield
on my wrist.
(click on the image to enlarge)