I can hardly hear Her. Pressing my ear to the soil, I must concentrate to feel the rumbling churn of the mantle as it swirls it's magnetism overhead. The birds roost in their nests, but make no song. The breeze isn’t strong enough to raise the hairs on my arms or rustle the broad leaves of the oaks. At first I thought, She is at rest for a day. Then, seeing that distant haze, I see She is struggling to breathe.
Paddy Dobson
26th July 2021