Crow craw and jack-daw puncture the sound-scape of hills and meadows – aerial battle resounds – broadsides ricochet in the pale sky above the passerine chit-chat and base-line baas of our valley.
A new chord rises – the dog points, ears pricked, and sniffs.
A strange, still wind?
Rumble of some terrible upheaval?
Birds pause. Listen!
It rises from the supernatural, our eternal underworld – louder – voices more distinct — celestial choir – angel voices.
Twenty-five thousand souls look up from grazing and acknowledge their lord, each with a different note from the human range – angel range.
Audible crescendo from three miles away — each note swelling with excitement, a wave of emotion to touch the very core… Now the melody is with the base – diesel baritone — and percussion over the cattle grid.