Twiggy fingers

I drove to Port Meadow and was beckoned over by twiggy fingers...I half expected  sleepy eyes to open and a trembling voice speak to me...or a few shuffling footsteps to be taken...I won't be happy until I've drawn it...

...we stumbled across someone's den...

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We escaped from the heat of the garden into the cool of the woods, and stumbled across someone’s den, an artwork signed by childish hands. Then we found our initials carved into the trunk of a tree. Scratched out years ago…now grown big and strong.