Gazing at the sunrise, as a new day breaks the dawn,

bleary eyes fixate towards the distant edge of my lawn.

The speckled common foxglove, sturdy, strong and tall,

a spike of colour backdropped by a grey, dry stone wall.

Lost deep in absent minded daydream, I begin to think,

if foxes wore gloves would they be purple, white or pink?

Early birds catch worms for hungr...

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