Autumn's Diary

Golden leaves,
like tiny pages
from an old diary,
days and weeks of
events and occasions
falling into a
coloured
carpeted
catalogue
of
memories
upon the
forest floor.

The Moon Bird

In the beat
of a wing,
with a
feathered flight
of freedom,
you
slip past the
fullness of the moon
and create a
magical moment,
forever portrayed
against the
lightening lunar sky
of a brand new day.

The Leaf

Weakened sunlight
filters through
the dried
skeletal
remains
of your
lifeline veins,
as
decay
creeps quietly
towards winter.

The Roost

Soon there were thousands of birds flying together in a huge mass of movement like one creature,as they turned back on themselves the mass grew intensely dark and then with a flick of wings undersides glowed pink!
Suddenly we became aware of an intruder,a new shape in the pack.A Sparrowhawk had infiltrated the flock and was splitting the mass in search of a kill!
Time and time again it flew into the hoards of birds until almost flying on it's back it grabbed a bird and descended onto the ground,there would be one less for the roost tonight!
The flock by now was huge and as it again flew overhead we could hear the air rushing past through millions of feathers,then the whole mass flew high over for one last time before funnelling downwards in a huge spiral with such force that the reeds swayed back and forth as if being hit by a tornado.

Then silence fell as the birds settled in for another night on the mere.

Dusk

Dusk falls
into the
silence
of the
night,
dark
shadows
lengthen
amidst a
nocturnal
masterpiece
upon a
canvas
of
sky

Robin

I cracked open
the window
to hear the
sweet sad
song falling
from the
tree,
alongside
a score of
descending notes
and a
waterfall
of coloured leaves.

Ode to an Autumnal Acer

A scarlet portrait
of a
short lived
beauty
flows
through the
droplets
of your
fine
feathered
fingers
and
weary
withering
veins.

This Day

Can I have
this day
again?
this day
with
no shower
of rain

this day
the sun
shone
from
dewy dawn
to
delicate dusk

this day
of calm
and still
and
nature's
thrill

this day
to recall
when winter
squall
will
blow and
chill.

this day,
mine
to keep
in
memory deep
where if
I sleep
I can
have
this day
again

Can I?

The Old Plane Tree

Steadfastly splendid
with
bulging boughs
ravaged and bent
by
winter winds.

Languidly leaning
your
gnarled trunk
knotted and twisted
as
decades pass.

Agelessly arboreal
your
ancient place
secure in history
for
future years.

The Ploughed Field.

Dark furrowed earth,
your measured lines give
new growth & new life
year after year.

Brown Pheasants skulk
around your hedged edges
monotonously pecking
at stray chaff & seed.

Dazzling white Seagulls
wheel on the wind
rising and falling
with frivolous spectacle.

Glossy purple Crows
stroll menacingly
along deep ridges
solemnly searching.

Shy Partridge huddle
in camouflaged groups
visible only as heads
rise above steep soil.

Seasons repeat,
crops grow & wither
sunshine then rain
and life moves on.

Sunset.

Dusk falls
amid purple hue,
skeins of geese
an amazing view.

Dark silhouettes
edge the scene,
peace and awe
perfectly serene.

Wispy clouds
drift slowly by,
an amber glow
holds the sky.

Colours darken
to the ground,
as silence falls
without a sound.

Night gathers
feathers in place,
the geese descend
without a trace.

Fungi.

Button or flat,
bracket or cap,
spore and folklore
fascinating,
funky,
fungi.

Gnome to sit on,
edible or poison,
gilled and veiled,
mysterious,
magical,
mushroom.

Hen Harrier

Eerie far away cries echo
over the vast expanse of water,
a ghostly white shape appears
from the mountain beyond
and your long graceful

wings dazzle against

the overall grey

murkiness of the morning.

The Merlin and the Moor.

Twisting and turning at

great speed while

skimming low over the
rain sodden heather
that clings to the sides
of the mountains like great

purple patchwork patterns,

the steel grey
pointed wings of a

Merlin flash close by.

Dragon breath clouds
drift slowly along
the tops of aged rocks,
at times shrouding
the whole mountain
in a huge blanket
of grey misty droplets.

Silence is the only
sound in the bleak
desolate dampness
of the rain soaked
moor.

Summer's End.

Summer is leaving us in a roar of unseasonal wind and cool slanting rain.
Grey clouds scuttle across dark heavy skies.
Trees creak and lean losing new green leaves instead of the bright colours of the usual fall.
Insects struggle to collect life giving pollen and nectar while flowers bend and droop with the sheer weight of heavy raindrops upon their soggy but still wonderfully defiant coloured heads.
Seasonal birds search the dull and laden skies in preparation for soon to be undertaken long journeys.
The sounds of summer are drowned out by torrential downpours preceded by a thunderous calamity of disturbed air.
Summer has left,the much anticipated and longed for season has slipped away over the edge of autumn.

Poppy

Memories
flutter like flowers
your
red jackets
lie like a
crimson carpet
on the
sweet dark earth
below
scarlet petals
gone for
another year
as time

and the

seasons
slowly

move
on.

The Lady

Painted Lady
what a show
performed
for me.

Painted Lady
all aglow
a pleasure
to see.

Painted Lady
before you go
dance
for me.

Painted Lady
I must I know
set
you free.

Where do you go?

Where do you hide?
when summers lie.
where do you go
when cold winds blow?

How do you sail?
when warm days fail
how can you dance
without a chance?

What will become
when season done
& autumn leaves fall
down on us all?

How do you thrive?
or even survive?
the icy cold
when winter takes hold?

Through short dark days
I'll wait and gaze
for a sunny thaw
& you to appear once more!

Another Summer.

Dazzling hot colours rise from baked borders while leaves shimmer and wilt as slowly the heat of the summer takes hold.

Butterflies emerge from nowhere to stun me with their gossamer fragility,yet they possess a fierce ability to fly through the strong summer breezes that shift whole branches in a noisy mass of swirling green.

I hear the briz of a lone Damselfly that is long gone before it's identity can be gleamed and overhead the screaming of scythe like Swifts cutting through the deep blue of a cloudless sky.

A twittering charm of Goldfinches,the familiar chattering of House Martins together with the buzzing of numerous varieties of black & gold Bees all add to the mesmeric torpor of the afternoon.

A tractor trundles in a far off field,the chug of the engine drifting over the haze of the now very hot day,I see the clouds of Gulls following in it's path ever hopeful of an easy meal.

Childish shouts and shrieks enter the peace of the garden,recalling long gone sports days at the village school and signalling the soon to commence long holidays that will take us into yet another season.

Stirred memories of garden games,paddling pools and lazy afternoons with picnics on rugs from summers long gone but not forgotten as the same brilliant yellow orb of sun beats a path onto a hot sunny afternoon in the garden.

Swallows of the Sea.

Swallows of the sea,
fly over me,
brilliant white
tail streamers
trail on
ozone scented breeze
silver eels
hang
equally from
brightly
coloured pointed beaks.

Harsh "kerrick"
repeated squawks
echo across
pebble patterned sand
as your
jagged
returning flights
with
comical scruffy crests,
fly over me,
Swallows of the sea.

The Tide.

Shingle & sand
edge of land
tide rushes in.

Pebbles & stone
waves thrown
tide crashes in.

Boulder & rock
can't stop
tide thunders in.

The Black Tern.

Turn and dip
silver grey
shadowed wing

Turn and dive
watery surface
a mirrored harvest.

Turn and swoop
nimble agility
with perfect ease.

Turn and leave
travel north
to journeys end.

I turn
to say farewell
to my Black Tern.

Speckled Wood.

Brown eyes
a brief glimpse
dance together.

Cream lace
summer's pride
flutters past.

Graceful flight
floats on air
in dappled shade.

Settle and rest
a moment in time
becomes mine.

A Summer Morn

It was one of those perfect English summer morns that don't happen too often.
The mere was a brilliant shade of blue,reflecting the sky above.
A lone Heron flew languidly into view his harsh squawk echoing into the silence of the new day.
Large numbers of acrobatic Swallows skilfully skimmed the glass like mirrored surface of the sun dazzled water.
The woods were alive with birdsong,such a deafening cacophony of noise yet so silent and empty too,the trees still wearing their best green colours and a new carpet was taking over from the faded spring floral one that had entranced us of a few weeks ago.
The tiny fast flowing brook glinted with the dappled woodland sunlight catching the ripples which trickled over it's weed covered stones,
The meadows beyond dancing with butterflies and literally humming with insect life.
A family of Mistle Thrushes hopped around the grassy field,we counted at least 6,a good year for them it would seem,over the other side a pair of busy Blackbirds were gathering food for their new family.
A Woodpecker was drumming an old dead trunk somewhere in the distance,with an assuredly rhythmic tap and a Nuthatch descended jerkily from another leafless bough.
We left them to their summer activities and walked home for breakfast......it was one of those perfect English summer morns.

A Cliff Top Day.

Lyrical Linnets
flutter everywhere,
almond scented Gorse
fills the becalming air.

Fluffy white clouds
began to part
showing patches of blue
to give us heart.

Soft spongy grass
below cliffs so tall
as hollow echoes
sound our footfall.

A Wheatear sits
amongst tussocks high
white tail flashing
towards a clearing sky.

The showery burst
drifts slowly away
and life resumes
it's cliff top day.