Bredon's Norton by Night and Day

I went on holiday to a pretty little tranquil English village and, before leaving I decided to leave a poem as a thankyou to my hosts. Revised (with thanks to Willie for his help)Feb 2008 Bredon Norton's by Night and Day Wending the darkened crunchy thread between holiday cottages, soft of bed; eliptical moon and a far reaching star generously tracing a path to the spa. Wet fog drapes the sliding door, violin wind is night's overture; restless leaves, copper disarray, unhurried hedgehogs shuffle away. Timid fox peeks through lambent eyes, hoot owl watches, silent and wise; wary, we tread the moonlit trail, our faces hooded from burgeoning gale. Hapless conkers clutched in hand, such delights are treasures unplanned; Rabbits, pheasant and white woolly sheep - snap with our cameras, mementos to keep. Norton Park's praises are sung by a few but its most cherished secrets are hidden from view: carved wooden stools, vintage lampshades that stun tudor oak beams and a framed flintlock gun. A dish of lush fruit and some welcoming wine, wonderfully tranquil, retreat so divine. ”Come back, come back!” I hear whispers in trees ”I shall, oh I shall!” I reply to the breeze. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ original version Bredon Norton's by Night and Day Wending the darkened crunchy thread between holiday cottages, soft of bed, eliptical moon and far scattered star toss careless shade on path to spa. Wet fog drapes the sliding door violined wind is night's overture restless leaves, copper disarray hedgehogs shuffle their rattling way. Timid fox peeks through lambent eyes hoot owl watches, silent and wise wary, we tread the moonlit trail our faces hooded from burgeoning gale. Hapless conkers clutched in dimpled hand, such sweet delights are treasures unplanned. Rabbits, pheasant and white woolly sheep - snap with our cameras, mementos to keep. Norton Park's praises are sung by a few but its most cherished secrets are hidden from view: carved wooden stools and a lampstand from olde, tudor oak beams make their statements bold. A dish of lush fruit and some welcoming wine, wonderfully tranquil, this retreat so divine. ”Come back, come back!” I hear whispers in trees ”I shall, oh I shall!” I reply to the breeze.