A second visit to Wicken Fen (National Trust wetland reserve) within a couple of weeks prompted a return to the poem started after the first visit
Photo by Pam
which prompted part of this poem
Wicken Fen: November.
Stillness had wrapped the fen in her embrace,
nothing moved save the occasional reed
nudged at its base by creature unseen,
a brief, barely imperceptible interruption
of the enormous silence.
Above us, lazy clouds stole quietly across the vast sky,
punctuating the blue with subtle hues
of grey and white, with edges tinted
orange, pink and cream
as the sun drifted lower in the early winterscape.
We sit, eliminating even the faint sound of our footfall on the boardwalk,
and our souls rest content in this Divinely given, cherished flatland.