The morning mist lies silent on the water.
Captured moonlight awaits the dawn.
Soft as a baby’s breath comes the morning.
The sun is coming we must be gone.
Nervously the sun tips over the horizon.
The grey morning opens up to brilliance.
Once quiet rushes now alive with the breeze.
The dawn chorus reaches it’s crescendo.
Shadows falling soft along the towpath.
Lambs waking in the chilled early light.
Creatures drink at the waters edge.
A fox runs fast across the field.