Of Echos and Traces

A haven of solitude, the steady march of my feet against the lane beat my own version of spiritual meditation. I allow my mind to still as I search for whispers of the past and the traces of stories held by this ancient land. Now, a fleeting glimpse of Hare races across the chalky fields, under towering oaks, leaping and darting, startled by my presence. I have become part of her story; she has become part of mine, and our echos will remain here, if you listen.