Pocketed by the glove of fogThe day slips into a world of whiteWhere even the birdsAre silentAnd remain unseen.There’s a pointedness In the roughened fingers of windThat wrap around the western walls Causing slender branches to danceBeneath the misted pane.The old roof nods to the windPassing throughSlates rattle and timbers shiftRain coursesThe ground,a sodden carpetOfContinue reading “Spring Contrasts”
Tag Archives: South Devon
Through the Window
Transient the grainy grey of Morning Slips unnoticed into view Shrillness carried on the ribbon of birdsongCuts through the grey bluish hue.Dense the mist in blanket formA shrouded cover to cloak the sodA distant measure all but hiddenEtched fingers of branches held aloft.
February Mist
When fog hangs over us , as so often it does on the 300 ft contour , why are we always surprised to find a different day as we drop down into the valley? Entrenched, enshroudedIn mist so thick The sun,obscured devoid of lightDarkened boughs hang lowUnder the rain -filled cloudLanes stain redAs mud leachesAndContinue reading “February Mist”
From Night to This
So often awake at 4am to which I pen a few lines in the darkness – watching , always watching as the eye becomes accustomed to the dark . It is only then that I realise that dark has many forms and colours . Night vision is so depleted in us of the modern world.Continue reading “From Night to This”
Twixt Land and Sea
An iridescence tops spun waves Foaming on the shoreline;I am near blinded by the light Of the setting sun;Heaven’s halo Between the island and the shore;The warmth and depth of the Autumn starBrings heaven to earthIn proximity,This liminal placeTwixt land and sea.
The Last Breakfast
Breakfast outside RegardlessSummer as taut as An elastic bandFully stretchedEeking outThe last hoursAlready there is change;How we have grown to fear it.The threads ofHalcyon days by sea or river Begin to sever their clarityAs memories mergeAnd leaves fall to the ground;Expectations out-way the reality.There’s a slight chillIn the airA soughing onThe fingers of the windCloudsContinue reading “The Last Breakfast”
Quadrille ~ for a summer evening
Evening light drawn acrossPatchwork fieldsEdged in woven linesOf greenA chequered pattern Spanning the valleySheep graze silentlyOn the steep slopesBeneath the pastel skyPinks and mauvesTouching the hillsAlone in the stillnessOf a pastoral sceneUnchanged.
Through the Fog
Silent thoughts tumble Evaporating on the fingers of the windThe damp air enshrouds the world in whiteThe steady saturation of mist Seeps throughThe parched landCloaked from viewFilling the soulReplenishing the spiritOf the earth.
Hiding the Story
The sky hides the story Grey and resoluteMist and windBelying the climate change.
Bats
Only the bat is nebularTheir streaming shadows play the remaking of a light show; Serotine ,Pippestrelle or HorseshoeForms identified by ear or furPersonified in mystery inSoft bodied perpetual motion With a fleeting glimpseA powdered spectre;Flight At dawn or dusk.Yet through the nightThe shadows play against the glassIn liminal motionRetreating and oscillatingBack and forthA mesmerising displayIfContinue reading “Bats”
My Devon Life 