by Claire Howland
Brick remains hiding many secrets
Are blanketed by sun bleached grass,
And moss which acts as cushions underfoot.
Magical and mysterious landscapes beckon,
Pine forests standing erect like guards.
A silver stream tiptoes down the hill,
Taking memories off into the oak coppice.
The deserted army base, ruined and overgrown,
Is invaded by lichen-covered branches.
Silver birches, fungi and wildflowers
Take over where soldiers once stood.
A fighter-plane buzzard wheels overhead,
A woodpecker mocks the hammer of guns,
The sound of a cuckoo signals peace at last,
Hooves land with a soft thump on damp sedge
As a fallow deer takes a triumphant leap…
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