tree falls
in slow motion
death dive
bridge building
in the dark
across the ravine
a vixen
takes her chance
tiptoes over
gives thanks
for richer pickings
on the other side
a storm brews
the tree shifts
falls in slow motion
the fox stranded
accepts new home
raises family
Hedgehogs!
Stop crossing busy roads and getting squashed you numbskulls.
Birds!
Stop migrating over lands where you’ll get shot, netted, eaten or stuffed.
Badgers!
Stop mixing with cattle and risk being culled for allegedly spreading TB.
Dolphins!
Stop smiling and acting like you want to entertain us in tiny cramped pools.
Whales!
Stop going near Japan, Iceland, Norway, Eskimos and harpoons ffs.
Elephants!
Stop growing your ivory tusks and you’ll avoid being poached.
Rhinos!
Stop growing your pointy horns and you’ll also avoid being poached.
Fish!
Stop swimming in large shoals which are easily detected by trawler men.
Pandas!
Stop being so lazy and get shagging to save your species. D’oh!
Turtles!
Stop eating plastic and sticking straws up your noses you idiots.
Tigers!
Stop burning bright in the forests of the night and get yourselves more camouflaged.
Apes!
Stop lagging behind in the evolution stakes and get like your cousins instead.
Woolly Mammoths!
Stop dozing in the Siberian tundra and get your DNA checked out.
Dodos!
Stop being dead as a dodo and start making an unexpected comeback.
Trees!
Stop standing still and start acting like the Ents in Lord of the Rings.
Nature!
C’mon! Fight back!
in this sunny damp and cornered field
I tread the margins of the coming yield
a farmer’s hope for summer harvests
his cash crops sold to hungry markets
and find myself by a wooden gate
its surfaces moss and lichen decorate
long abandoned some long time ago
the surrounding hedge now overgrown
like this footpath I dared to rediscover
to dwell awhile whilst nature chatters
the sun well past its point of no return
taking with it the day’s unconcern
there’s nothing much left here to see
except perhaps a slightly swaying tree
that in the late afternoon growing breeze
is gently urging me to move on please
and leave the secrets I have found
upon this green and giving ground
in this sunny damp and cornered field
I tread the margins of the coming yield
the park, the river, the beach
dried leaves from horse chestnuts
bottle tops in squelchy mud
the driftwood of weathered huts
I circle around those memories
like a seagull searching for grub
the trees, the bridges, the horizon
my friends in the cricket club
I’m off to hunt out stag beetles
or mice under corrugated sheets
my day spent in silent solitude
with the birds and bumble bees
the chalk, the grass, the blue skies
marking white arrows on gates
rolling down steep hillsides
watching red admirals contemplate
you can’t take the boy out of the man
the landscape from out of his eyes
it’s ingrained like rings of truth
every year that flies on by
flight paths criss-cross on the fringe of realms
the robin lands on a confusion of chicken wire
looks about before darting in to feed his partner
sparrows and blue tits fly straight into their nests
away up the slope a thrush like an arrow nearing
pauses for one moment on the rusted fencing
then dives into the tangle of hedge and briars
in the bottom field a squadron of carrion crows
they glip and glide and gather in poplar trees
cow tails swish to swat away some pesky flies
seagulls merge with floating clouds up on high
the first swallow breezes in from faraway skies
glad to be back home despite the nip in the air
checking out it’s favourite haunts and meadows
there’s a blackbird with a white tail feather
a mob of magpies making a racket in the conifer
one of those that has grown too big for its roots
next winter it will come down with an axe swing
the wood chopper chops as the woodpecker pecks
chop after peck after chop after peck after chop
sound and motion in natural harmony
later I will draw down the night sky on all of this
with a broadcasting hand I will scatter the stars
the pull of a chord will lighten up the full moon
time for tawny owls to ke-wick and hoo-hoo-oooo
time to take my leave and leave without a trace
for I am not of this world despite all you have heard
I come and go in peace on wax paper wings
a little brown sparrow
flew directly toward me
it caught a tiny black fly in flight
and flew off into the big bright sky
did the fly notice the sparrow?
or the sparrow notice me?
or did the big bright sky see
the drama unfold down below?
it was just an insignificant moment
caught between the beat of tiny wings
and later the day turned to night
and an owl came out to feed
Feathered friend singing
Dancin’ to the Jailhouse Rock
Who’s a pretty boy?
(photo courtesy of http://www.animalsaustralia.org/issues/caged_birds.php)
