To snooze, parked in a layby country lane Is but a dream -- the hawthorn hedge alongside Teems with life, with dunnock, orange-tip butterfly, A nesting blackbird now disturbed, wood mouse And vole foraging among the Harts tongue thorns -- All pause and wait. Then like a flood come sheep, Filling the lane, lollop and jostle, bleat Upon heartfelt bleat, and suddenly a ram! What pristine horns! What dreadnaught eyes! A ladybird lands on your arm, and nips, And wasps, a pair, fly in to look around -- Caught in a r ural rush hour, what chance has sleep.

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