Moor
Mist turned to drizzle, turned to rain and fat spots of water pattered the scrubby grass making individual stalks bounce, stained the Lichen clad rocks a darker shade.
Countless fat black Slugs pepper the ground indifferent to the bobbing white scuts of fleeing Rabbits.
The more time I spend in this place the more I learn to see, the emptiness fills my mind and quenches my thirst.
Less is most definitely moor.
