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
Holiday ?
holiday
enjoying relaxation
building carbon footprint
Hmm it’s making me think. We have reduced all journeys this year and remained close to home. On Friday we travel to the other end of the country to swap one coastline for another. Even the geology crosses the country in the same way – Jurassic to Jurassic . What will be gained?
Through the Fog
Silent thoughts tumble
Evaporating on the fingers of the wind
The damp air enshrouds the world in white
The steady saturation of mist
Seeps through
The parched land
Cloaked from view
Filling the soul
Replenishing the spirit
Of the earth.
Dawn -On the breath of wind
Warm air gusts through the open window
Curtains billow
Listen to the soughing of the trees
Imagine the curled dried leaves
Falling
Still the rain does not come.
Whippet
Not written by me . Sums up our beautiful whippet Pepper.
Hiding the Story
The sky hides the story
Grey and resolute
Mist and wind
Belying the climate change.
Under darkness
Darkness deepens
The mind in starkness clarified
Thoughts spun, tumble-dried
The slightest sound is amplified
The world sleeps on.
Black turns to grey
And light though
Imperceptible
Outlines the clouds
And heavy shrouds
Silhouettes enshroud
In definition of approaching day.
Bats
Only the bat is nebular
Their streaming shadows play the remaking of a light show;
Serotine ,
Pippestrelle or Horseshoe
Forms identified by ear or fur
Personified in mystery in
Soft bodied perpetual motion
With a fleeting glimpse
A powdered spectre;
Flight
At dawn or dusk.
Yet through the night
The shadows play against the glass
In liminal motion
Retreating and oscillating
Back and forth
A mesmerising display
If I should stay awake to see.
We have always had bats in the roof. Last year they moved around to just above our window , most probably a nursery roost .They are here again this July . There are more than ten of them and are beautiful to watch as they fly before nightfall.
One came in the other night through the window.
Evening Gate
Open, always open
The gate invites you in.
Allium
A purple globe
Amidst a sea of green
Nature’s jewel.
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.
My Devon Life 