From Fairy Dyke to Nightingale Farm.
Dust on the wind, malevolent sorrow in the ice-cold gutter of a dead heart, down the dirt road tracks to Nightingale farm. Where once we knew days of belonging. I see now that immense Suffolk sunset, and the leaf mould path that led from chrickle wood down to that Stour valley wonder landscape, where shadows […]
From Fairy Dyke to Nightingale Farm. Read More »