By – Marina Bonomi

I dreamt I was a falcon,
or am I dreaming now?
Wisteria bells are chiming
in the wind from the South.

The hunters are a-gathering
with their red-eared hounds

I dreamt I was a hind
with golden-dappled fur
a silver collar gleaming
on my neck, in the run.

The hunters are a-gathering
with their red-eared hounds

I dreamt I was a hare
with ruby-gleaming eyes
a pale flash of moonlight
hiding in thorny edges.

The hunters are a-gathering
with their red-eared hounds

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme…
how did that ancient rhyme go?
Will holly, birch, rowan and ash
be any avail ‘gainst the good folk?

The hunters are a-gathering
with their red-eared hounds

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