Out in the field

Out in the field, crows perch on high branches still bare from winter's ravages; overseeing the to and fro of wild geese gliding down to graze the fresh grass.
Here we stand, braced against chill breezes, wrapped in layers to ward off the creeping cold; focused on a small yellow circle.
 Bows in hand we begin the now familiar ritual - inhale, draw, focus, breathe, release;  a rhythm born of muscle memory, forming the focus of a morning meditation.
There is no need for words; the silence broken only by the slight vibration of a  loosened bowstring, and  solid thud of arrows meeting their mark.
Looking down the line, we wait for the final release before a short stroll to the boss, where the tug and click as arrows are gathered and  requivered is masked by a pair of rowdy magpies laughing from their fence post perches.
This is the field, and this our moment of peace in a hectic world.