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
Beguiled by beautyThe transient winter’s mornWith hint of white streakedAcross a cyan sky The palette of the hedgerowSwapped for lichen covered Moorland rocksAnd sweeping viewsCandescent riseFrom aloft the mighty Granite tors.Air to breathe The warmth of sunRespite from rain.
The strength of the beam Casts out darkness25 miles the light is cast Reassurance for those at seaEnduring constancy for us at home.
A pale wintery light floods the bare furrowsAs earth drops her mantle Laid bare to North Eastern windsDark fingered branches Frame the scene And steal the unexpected glow Locking secrets beneath their bowsProtection offeredIn elemental fusionAs dry pine needles crunch beneath our bootsWe skim the forest edgeDeliberately To keep the light And security of forestContinue reading “Winter walk”
A marauding sky creeps over the skylineDramatising the moorland ridge;Silver- fingered branches Steal the showAs their naked forms Stand sentinel on the banks; The moss – green of the hollyBoasts proudly against theImpending darkness;Sharply focusedThe eye is drawnTo the silver lane snaking the homeward mile As the moor vanishesBlotted outAnd heavy drops Land on theContinue reading “Driving Home”