The light flickers behind my closed lids It’s hard to know if it’s lightning So used we are to recrudescences of screens At the beginning of the dayShould I check the phone(www.realtimelightning.org)?But the air is thick and intense And the soughing rush of the treesSignals air whipped up under the heavy cloudAnd the sky aContinue reading “Was it lightning ?”
It’s been a strange Spring . May was wet, cold and stormy which wrecked early growth – even the trees have had to sport new leaves. The broad beans were destroyed but the warmth in June has seen a huge catch up especially brought with heavy showers last week. Now the days are really hotContinue reading “The Garden in June”
Shafts of light filter through open treesDainty beads of colourOf dew-spangled jewelsThread through the bank,Winding a tapestry; Silence is Held on the breath of the windUntil murmurs and shuffles In the henhouse are heard And the spell is broken By a sharp blackbird call. Out early with whippet puppy – there are advantages – feelingContinue reading “To be Out Early”
Like Socrates,tread I barefoot on the ground Drink deeply, elixir of the soil Strengthened by every grain imbibedConnections rooted deeply from the coreThe elemental smell of rain- freed earthy spores that cleanse and heal;A living substrate made for growthIn simplicity, softly drawn withinWhere we, with nature, seemingly at one Are held,Protected by the earth andContinue reading “Abandonment to Garden”
Bold in the lane Totally still A statuesque form Aligned to a bronzeCast by the evening sunExhibit 2Then… Alerted It’s ears twist and are raised Like a muntjac from behind So raised are the hind legsGear changed and foot down Shower gravel as they springBurning rubber on a sixpence Through the gateway and gone.
Rivulets of lightSnaked lines Like a delta fanShimmer on the surfaceOf golden sandLike pockets of elversIn constant motionChanging pattensPlaying in the morning light.
A rush of air sucks breathFrom the lungsThe stride shortens Head lowers I dig deepPeppered by bullets Of shrapnel as hailStings the faceAnd skimsThe tops of the hedgesAnd turn intoThe sunken lane Where primroses hide Like Porcelain tea cupsOn rattling shelvesAnd acid celandineStands askewWith bent petals Made ragged by last night’s Storm Not yet spentVioletsContinue reading “Squally March Afternoon”
Snow- white she risesResplendent and poisedQueen of the heavensJewel of the sky.Haloed and frostedSilent and boldHunger moon knownBy tribes long ago.This ancient of spectres Storm moon and Chaste Known by our ancestors.Ghost white and laced.
Filigreed fans of oak, ash and elm Grace the topsOf wire- sculptured formsThe eye is drawnTo the ridgeTo the wide collage Under light-spangled stratus The smell of the sap rising Olfactory spiralsTrail to the stratosphereLouder the birdsong seems ClearerUrgent The narrative is changing.
Pack your cells with joy Strip off all of winter’s slothEmbrace the new day Celebrate the patch of blue Breathe deep and embrace the light. Posted for Frank Tasonne’s Haika challenge