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