Crossing The Moor In Those Dark Hours

"Did you lie down in a field again?" My mother asked me almost as soon as I walked through the door. At my sheepish yes she informed me that I had carried half of the field home with me on the back of my coat. Whoops. I'm often liable to get caught up in the moment; spying something I want to get a closer look at or chasing some phantom real or imagined and so I rip my tights or get my hair caught on outstretched tree branches and bushes. I slide and sometimes fall trying to scramble down steep hills--it's not an adventure if I don't end it with a few bruises or scrapes. With summer insects dying away in early morning frosts I'm beginning to venture away from sandy beaches and into unfamiliar fields while chasing flocks of migrating birds...