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”
Tag Archives: South Devon
Snow Moon
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.
Beauty in stillness
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.
Tanka: Pack Cells with Joy
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
The difference of one Day
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.
Lighthouse
The strength of the beam Casts out darkness25 miles the light is cast Reassurance for those at seaEnduring constancy for us at home.
Winter walk
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”
Driving Home
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”
Footsteps without Words
The eye is drawn To capture The broad skySoft haze of the shorelineThe filtered lightThe beauty Of defined grandeur.The ear is drawn To rhythmic motionSounds without callsPowerful and resolute The heart is drawn To footsteps without words.Be still my soul.
South Devon at its Best
A lovely Sunday walking from Beesands to Start Point . Big skies made for dramatic patterns and the ever changing scene made the sea a constant changing pattern.Totally sheltered in the shelter of the bay, but white horses visible over the Skerries.
