a postcard from Llansteffan, Wales

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birds, bees, badgers and trees

the mistlethrush trees
line the fields
are poplar
with the birds and bees

and badgers steel
the nuts and seeds
that fell from feeders
in the breeze

rowan, ash and hazel three
are coloured like a potpourri
with berries, acorns, witches wands
the magic spells of woodland songs

minute by minute

I paint brushstrokes on a grey sky
and sit and wait for a while
you never know what might fly by
minute by minute by avian mile

believe me, they do not deceive my eyes
these airborne birdies so versatile
in flight so gracious up on high
minute by minute my widening smile

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for RSPB Big Garden Birdwatch 27th – 29th January 2018

https://www.rspb.org.uk/get-involved/activities/birdwatch/?channel=paidsearch&gclid=CjwKCAiA47DTBRAUEiwA4luU2c9gFxBni0vbHypxXrVuY4yFCuroNVWrodC4uUdL3z8uuG1JJWhP4hoCwVAQAvD_BwE

Wood for the Trees

life can become overwhelming
for no obvious rhyme or reason
purpose and definition go astray

with no direction to call home
you lose yourself amongst wolves
and stray into darkened corners

but there are hands reaching out
and voices with reassuring words
waiting for your reappearance

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dictum tweet

on the top of tall trees strutted the bird
with a song and name long since heard
for man had ceased to roam this world
his forgotten words in leaves unstirred
when from its throat the bird unfurled
a dictum tweet  unleashed  and  hurled
I AM THE ONE, THE TRUE, HOLY BIRD!

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Mime Artists

The trees are moving like mime artists
Yet the wind is not their voice

They shed their silent thoughts
With every leaf that falls to the ground

The word autumn is echoed
In the crisp scrunch of footsteps

But it is a slow uncertain suicide
Shutting down and boarding up the show

Standing bare through winter
The arc of the sun scraping the horizon

Waiting to see if they will survive
And become mime artists once again