First Light

A Petrol sky etched with pinkish hue;
The muffled cockerel cry;
A hazy outline of moorland ridge;
The first calls of a thrush imbue.

Recumbent cows with their faces alight;
Shards from the eastern sun;
A lone calf wanders, stirring the herd;
Sharp cry of a blackbird in flight.

Conspicuous by its reddish form,
A deer runs back and forth.
Green juxtaposed against the golden grass
The hedge-lined fields adorn.

A gifted morning, a savoured treat
So often going unseen;
A hidden world- a rhythmic pattern;
Apposed lives chancing to meet. 

Ruth Partridge 

70 years

Just what has happened through 70 years-
Just what has changed?
Yet what stands out clear
Shown at the party in the Mall

The pictures on a house
The pictures of a life
For one who has given much
For one who leads with love
Our Queen through 70 years
Constant through our fears
Consistency in action
A life with driven purpose
A life of faith with service

We celebrate in style
In a way our country can
A nation drawn together
A moment of rejoicing
In poignant recognition
Carnival and whooping
National pride and affection
Flags and decoration
For seventy glorious years.

Observations in the Woodland Garden

My hands deep in the earth-
Stained and worn
Where air is heavy and intense from spores released with rain;
I watch fine droplets streaming down new leaves
Arched over with weight
As fronds of ferns
With Prehistoric curl
Hang low
In communion with Dog-toothed violet;
Where faded primroses nod
To bluebells near purple in their
Intoxicating intensity;
The old fork is propped
Ready to lift the clods of soil
In time- worn fashion
In this ancient part of the garden.

Observations on a Postcard

Beautiful afternoon for watching the beach and eating shellfish alfresco at the Winking Prawn .

North Sands Salcombe South Devon
A postcard view within a snapshot 
But sit awhile and observe the flow
Towards the shoreline
Down and up
Eyes skyward, a whippet follows a disc
In predictable line of anticipated retrieval across the wet sand
Breaking the mirrored surface
Avoiding the flow
Cloud patterns sweep the shore
In laminar flow
As the water pools like a spill on the ground
And carefree children trace their
Route trailing bucket and spade
In grooves made by sand worms
To the water’s seamless edge
A liminal zone with little distinction
Before the paddle border takes the stage
And the whir of the speedboats in the bay.

Earth’s shores

Earth’s shores
Those boundaries defined
As sand slips silently away
Neither land nor sea
A liminal place
Shape shifting
Where nothing is solid
Draws like the gravitational
Pull of the tide
To cast thoughts
In anonymity
To the waves
Yet closer in fragility ensconced
To the emphemeral nature
Of the spirit
Heard by the cry of the gull
And all of heaven above.

Inspired by a line in the book I am reading .