16 July 2009

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 screamimg 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 another hot sunny afternoon in the garden.

06 July 2009

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.

24 June 2009

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.

22 June 2009

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.

16 June 2009

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.

15 June 2009

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.

06 May 2009

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.

20 April 2009

The Martins Return.

Familiar sounds
echo around
you made it back
chitter and chat
from where you roam
you made it home
excited twitter
how far you've flown
to breathe new life
into my home.

Trust you've shown
in me alone
how about that
chitter and chat
summers here
you have no fear
excited twitter
another year
to share with me
I'll hold it dear.

09 April 2009

Red Tails on the Wind.

Snow was still lying in sun starved folds of far off velvet mountains.Peat coloured waters of unknown depths with dark mirrored surfaces lay over the huge expanse of moorland. A lone Moorhen bobbed it's way across the corner of one small pool.

Plaintive cries of Curlew carried on the wind,the birds themselves hidden within the depths of the spongy grasses.

Pleasingly abundantly rising Skylarks,their serenading songs whipped away from them in the strong wind dived for cover as the silent barred shape of the Hen Harrier passed by.

A colourful long winged giant flew overhead with apparent ease.Vivid red flashes from a twist of it's fork like tail giving away it's identity as a wonderful Red Kite!

Heavy,glossy,purple black cronking Ravens were a delight to see as they flew powerfully away from sight.

Soaring Buzzards and hovering Kestrels also took their turns in the sky as we observed the unfolding daily dramas of the majestic moorland.

19 March 2009

The Butterfly.

Stiff wings unfurl
you dance and twirl


An image of grace
in delicate lace.

A dainty pose
open and close.

Patterned select
pretty perfect.

Flutter in flight
colours so bright.

Beauty beyond
all summer long.

16 March 2009

A Golden Morning.

Whistling Plover
wheeling over
settling down
golden brown.

Honey backs
breasts of black
all take flight
flashing white.

Without warning
golden morning
flies away
but makes my day!

10 March 2009

A Pennine Day.

Hen Cloud
a misted shroud,
one moment clear
another to fear.

Swirling snow
which way to blow,
dusting heather,
dropping on feather.

Huddled fowl
wind around howls,
waters shift,
crystals drift.

Clouds reveal
an edge surreal
as a Pennine day
fades away.

A Spring Afternoon.

I set off with the heavy grey skies of the morning clearing and the sun warm on my face and head round the corner to my wood.
New growth and bird song are everywhere,hopes are high and hearts are lifted!
The fields on the other side of the wood are a bright verdant green,the busy farmer's year already well on it's way.
There's a Robin singing beautifully in a nearby budding tree and a Buzzard's mew is carried on the breeze as it passes overhead.
I can hear a Wagtail's calls somewhere over the blossoming hedges and the sudden loud flaps as a startled Woodpigeon takes flight.
Turning now towards the sun the warmth is magnified and I soon arrive at the village centre,shop doors are open,music playing through opened windows and somewhere in the distance the rumble of the long forgotten sound of a lawnmower.
Folk suddenly have time to stand and chat without being huddled into multi layers of clothing before dashing back to their tightly closed doors and pre-warmed houses.
Cats sprawl on sun warmed walls,stretching lazily and sleepily barely noticing as I pass,while brightly coloured spring bulbs adorn every tiny patch of front garden.
If I close my eyes I can almost hear the soon to return Swift's screams as they career wildly through the old familiar streets of their summer haunts.
I carry on down the old hill with a feeling of renewed vigour as memories of cold and damp winters days retreat with every step I take towards home.

02 March 2009

Dancing on the Marsh.

Your large rowing oar shaped wings crept slowly into view over the huge expanse of marsh,golden and broad they carried you as you travelled with a majestic monotous flap.

Then a harsh wracking call as suddenly you became two,to rise up in a windmill of wings to dance together before a separation,a sudden turn and you dive head first into the ground where you disappear from view and I at last remember to take a breath!

You alight to what I discover to be your favourite hunting post and I see your head turn at ridiculous,almost impossible angles,your body remaining as still as the night.


You stare from huge dark saucer like eyes framed by a flat feathered face into the marsh as you resume your silent lonely ritual.

Waiting Waders.

Flutter of feather
you move together.


Restless shuffle
in a huddle.

Head under wing
no song to sing.

One legged hop
wings loosen and drop.

Lazy eyes blink
tide rushes in.

A patient stand
for a harvest of sand.

25 February 2009

Winters Gems.

Iced diamonds
nothing to fear
silver white bells
but none to hear.

Emerald leaves
hold them dear
nodding heads
bring in new year.

Pearls of winter
crystal clear
to start anew
when you appear.

17 February 2009

The Whooper.

Gliding pure white
and noble
across reflective

sun dazzled waters
your graceful poise and
trumpeting whoops
signalling
your presence
for a brief
winter solstice,
before you raise
your elegant neck,
tilt your buttery
yellow bill
to the sky
and in a
flurry of feathers
& a watery

webbed paddle
take flight to
begin
yet another
epic
journey.

15 February 2009

Winter Visitors.

On harsh winter winds
you cross our shore
to a gatherers welcome
a harvest in store.

In hedgerows you flock
to babble and sing
a crimson flash
on an upbeat wing.

Sociable chatter
from fields and bush
slate grey rumps
belie camouflage of Thrush.

The moist warm air
of a longed for spring
bids a fond farewell
to Fieldfare and Redwing.

A Moment.

That moment when I saw
the few remaining leaves on skeletal winter trees,
the tiny sunlit break in wind blown scattering clouds,
the ripples on the water as they dispersed ever outwards,
the shafts of light upon damp,dark newly ploughed fields,
the first soft flakes of snow falling from a leaden grey sky,
the flock of wheeling birds across a wide sandy estuary,
the sunlight racing over the purple heather hill,
all became mine,

in that moment in time.

That moment when I heard
the deafening roar of waves on a pebble beach
the first spring call of the returning Cuckoo
the patter of winter rain on window frames
the crisp sound of walking on fallen autumn leaves
the screams of Swifts as they race across a blue summer sky
the soft squeaky scrunch of footsteps in virgin snow
the ascending burble of a Skylark above a golden field
all became mine,
in that moment in time.

04 February 2009

Ode to a Lark.

How strong you are
your wings beat
through the sky
as you fly.

How brave you are
your voice sings
upon the sky
as you fly.

How glad am I
to hear your song
as to the sky
my heart does fly.