AUTUMN LEAVES ARE GATHERING

 

Autumn leaves are gathering

Golden in the hedgerows

As the sun sits lower in the sky

Shadows lengthen across the landscape

Heralding winters approach

CHRISTMAS STAR

 

The Christmas star

Festively untypical

Having poisonous milk

And being tropical

But scarlet petal-like leaves

Make them appear more topical

And star shaped flowers

Are more decoratively typical

NATURAL MUSIC

Bird song abounds like a symphony

Scripted by natures unseen composer

Conducted by the baton of an invisible maestro

The shrill woodwinds

Of Blackbirds, Finches, Thrush and the Tit family

While the Cuckoo sets the time

And a Woodpecker beats a rhythm

The breeze moves the leafy canopy

Like vibrant cascading strings

Timber’s creek and strain adding percussion

Rutting Stags and distant plaintive cries

A Fox cry and a Peacock’s call

Waterfowl and cooing Doves

Underscored by the beating wings of birds in flight

Insects join the improvised symphony

Droning Bees and Dragonfly

A symbol crash as a Duck enters the water

A waterfall adds the rolling kettle drum

Distant thunder booms like a bass drum

And Xylophonic drops of rain hit the lake

While a Swan gracefully dances

Across the water in perfect harmony

God in heaven the impresario

Of mother nature’s philharmonic company

 

THE SURREY HILLS

 

I walked along a hill top path

With my old dog Jake

Beneath a cloudless sky of azure blue

The path led us into a sparsely wooden copse

Its leafy canopy defused the strong sun

And provided welcome shade

I decided to rest a while in the cool shadows

I slipped off my back pack

And sat against a trees trunk

I wiped the sweat from my brow

Before taking a bottle from my pack

I poured water into a bowl for Jake

And took a generous swallow for myself

Then I lit my pipe and relaxed

In an aromatic cloud and enjoyed the scene

Specks of sunlight dappled the ground

And midges danced around the sunbeams

As Jake chased the shadows

The time came to move along

And we followed the path back into the sun

And onward along the ridge

After a long slow crawl up the ever steepening path

We reached the summit and were duly rewarded

To see the countryside stretching far to the south

Spread like a great patchwork quilt

This perfect view from the Surrey hills

PEBBLES SMOOTH

 

Pebbles smooth,

Like crude glass

Smoothed by nature

Time and tide

Its patterned form

Marbled in style

Sits comfortably

In the fingers

To be skimmed

Back to the ocean

 

VOLCANOES ARE TERRIFYING

 

Volcanoes are terrifying

Just the thought of them is frightful

But pyroclastic eruptions

That’s just Nature at its most spiteful

IN THE WATER MEADOW

 

In the water meadow

The Mayflies pirouette

On gossamer wings.

A pair performs a duet

As they dance their

Ephemeral vignette

AMIDST THE REEDS AND RUSHES

 

Amidst the reeds and rushes

Dragonflies hover by the river still

Where the weeping willows

Drooping branches spill

THE RIVER WATERS

 

The river waters

Take their time

Slowly meandering

Through fragrant meadows

Copse and wood

Rural idylls all

Where time stands still.

Swans use a quiet ait

As an islet sanctuary

But the quiet waters

Though slow of purpose

Have no time to dwell

And are reluctantly

Bound for the sea

ABOVE A MOONLIT MEADOW

 

Above a moonlit meadow

The stars begin to shine

As I plight my troth in earnest

And hope to make you mine

THE OPAQUE MISTS

 

The opaque mists

Blur and soften

Disguising the landscape

Hiding from sight

Until the sun warms

And burns the mist away

INHABITING THE MARGINS

 

Inhabiting the margins

Of the water’s edge

The waterfowl are found

Hid amongst the sedge

THE MILLPOND WATER

 

The millpond water

In the sultry air

Stood eerily still

its mirrored surface

Reflected its image

In crystal clarity

So perfectly still

That the millpond water

Could have been

A looking glass

For young Alice

To enter wonderland

WATERFOWL

 

So ungainly on the ground

Quite displeasing to the eye

But when they effortlessly

Spread their wings and fly

They perform a graceful ballet

Across the bright blue sky

THE SHARP-EYED SPARROWS

 

The sharp-eyed sparrows

Darting to and fro

Examine the soil

Disturbed by the hoe

Picking out a morsel

And off they go

MARBLED SKIES

 

Marbled skies of broken cloud

Coloured with blues and greys

In the frosty air of winters bite

The marbled skies of winter days

THE MELTING SUN

 

The last deep orange glow

Of the setting sun

Slipped beyond the horizon

Like it was melted

By its own heat

Sending the world into the darkness

Of the fast approaching night

DELPHINIUM

 

Delphinium, The dolphin flower

From Delphis, The Greek for Dolphin

With bottle shaped blooms like a dolphins nose

The golden Buttercup is its Cousin

More humbly known as Larkspur

Gracing the meadowland they’re found in

LONELY EYOT

 

On the lonely eyot

The world hastens by

As the rain fed torrent

Rushes headlong

Towards the sea

And the inhabitants

Of the quiet river haven

In nest and burrow

Fear their island homes

Will be washed away

 

THE RIVER WATERS

The river waters

Take their time

Slowly meandering

Through fragrant meadows

Copse and wood

Rural idylls all

Where time stands still.

Swans use a quiet ait

As an islet sanctuary

But the quiet waters

Though slow of purpose

Have no time to dwell

And are reluctantly

Bound for the sea

ASTER

 

Aster, starflower of the Gods

Pleasing to the varied eye

In their beauteous abundance

And loved equally by the butterflies

ALBATROSS

 

The Albatross on the wing

Over southern ocean

The sun gleaming

On it’s out span pinion

CHANTICLEER COCK

 

In the farmyard

Where the chickens scratch

A Chanticleer cock keeps an eye

On his clucking batch

 

But if some unfortunate

Mishap should befall

Leaving the farmyard

With no cock at all

 

Then nature will take a hand

To correct the mishap

Turning one of the scratchy hens

Into a chap

UNDER MACKEREL SKIES

 

Trawler men, leave

The safety of port,

Putting out to sea

Under Mackerel skies

And on foaming oceans

Drag their nets

And hope that God

See’s them safe to port

THE LANDSCAPE IS DESERTED

 

The landscape is deserted

The lake is frozen,

The reeds heavy with frost

And the Ducks have flown south

The snow lays deep

And Deer have meandered

To greener pastures

The songbirds have migrated

Leaving trees bare and empty

Though the sky is clear blue

And the sun bright

It holds no warmth

And the air is fresh and cold

THE AIR IS COOLER

 

The air is cooler

Just below the tree line

In the foothills of the mountain

Peace and quiet reigns

In the shade of the pines

And the freshness

Of the evening breeze

But for the bird song

CAUGHT IN THAT FIRST INSTANT

 

Caught in that first instant,

That first take from a distance

There appeared from the Woodlands edge

A kind of low misty apparition

Almost like a cloud of drifting smoke

Emerging from the tree line

Of course, when I got closer I realised

It was just the flowering Hawthorn

 

WHEN LIGHTNING STRIKES

 

When lightning strikes

And thunderclaps, feel Mother

Nature’s angry wrath

EARLY MORN

 

Stepping into the garden,

The wet grass beneath my feet

Everywhere fresh with morning dew

The air honeysuckle sweet

The dew drops glistening,

The sunlight weakly warming

It’s so good to be alive

At the dawn of another morning

MY FAVOURITE TIME OF DAY

 

It’s my favourite time of day

Is a special time, a magical time

A time for romancing lovers

For shared enjoyment

Or solitary reflection

A time to drink in the vistas

Along with the cocktails

 

My favourite time of day

Boasts awe inspiring displays

Whether over the open sea,

Beyond distant mountains,

Over prairie or savannah,

Or painting barren desert

Or colouring the icy tundra

Illuminating a city landscape

Whether it’s across the river

Or behind the gas works

It’s a special time, a magical time

It’s my favourite time of day

When the sun sets

DON’T LOOK UP

 

They appear morning

Noon and night

They swell and grow

Rise and fall

And dissolve and shrink

They are sometimes thick

Sometimes thin

They are sometimes dense

Sometimes transparent

They move fast and slow

They cross treetops and fields

Lakes and seas

Homes and factories

Deserts and swamps

Tropical rainforests

And arctic tundra’s

They are beautiful and familiar

Strange and dramatic

They are myriad in form and shape

A face, a mountain, a fish

They are brown and gray

Steel blue and black

Yellow and gold

Lilac and pink

But mostly clouds are white

AS THE STORM FRONT CLOSES IN

 

As the storm front closes in

The Gulls desert the cliff top

To find safe haven deep inland

And wait for the storm to stop

THE FISHING BOATS BOB AND DANCE

 

The fishing boats bob and dance

Driven by weather to the south

Making slow progress in the swell

As they approach the harbour mouth

CACOPHONIC CHORUS

 

As if to chase the night away

And herald the dawn’s arrival

Birds awaken bright as the day

With the cacophonic chorus

Before the sun comes into view

To turn the sky from black to blue

OCTOBER

 

Misty mornings
Start dim and dismal
Penetrating Dampness
Seeping into your bones
Some days it brightens later
Enough for shirtsleeves
Then when darkness falls
Curtains are drawn.
At the months beginning
Grass is still growing green
The trees are well covered still
Then leaves turn green to yellow
Yellow is burnished to gold
Gold to burning red
Then red to earth.
Beyond the equinox
Days have already become
More dark than light
Before the clocks fall back
And the sun sets sooner
Days of sunshine deceive
Sheltered pockets warm and confuse the senses
In the later days
When the residual warmth diminishes
The bite remains
To herald worse to come

Uncanny Tales – (009) Spring was in the air

Spring was certainly in the air on that beautiful early Spring weekend, and what wonderful weather it was, made all the nicer after the long drawn out winter that preceded it, which probably seemed that much longer than it was because we had had no summer to speak of the previous year.

Anyway, the weather was so nice that after breakfast I left my wife in bed reading the Sundays and I set off for a good long walk around the village and its environs.

As I enjoyed the warm Spring sunshine, I noticed the many harbingers of the season such as the daffodils nodding in the breeze, birdsong everywhere and endless parades of cyclists along the lanes punctuated only by the occasional car towing a caravan.

 

After a couple of strenuous hours, I had worked up something of a sweat as well as a thirst to match, so I headed towards home, but because of the thirst I thought I might just have a cool refreshing beer at the village pub on the way.

However once I reached the pub I soon realised I was not the only one to have that idea and I had to negotiate my way through piles of abandoned bikes and was then greeted by the scene of a packed beer garden full of people showing far too much white flesh than was good for anyone which had the effect of slaking my thirst.

So I decided to give it a miss after all and went home early instead, where I could enjoy a cold beer in my own garden, but when I entered my house I discovered that my neighbour Gerry, had not only entered the house before me but had also entered my wife, and more than once by the look of the pair of them and I was immediately struck with by the thought that their actions had rendered me the first cuckold of Spring.

Uncanny Tales – (046) The April Showers

 

The lightning struck, intensely bright, followed in almost the same instance by the thunderclap directly overhead, so loud that it shook the car and then the rain began and fell heavily in large drops beating a frantic tune on the car roof, then almost as quickly as the dark skies arrived they were gone and the sun was out again, although it was a few moments before the April shower stopped completely and a rainbow appeared in the sky.

We were parked by the village green, which was patterned with strips of freshly cut grass and when we got out of the car the mixture of sun, rain and cut grass produced a smell that was quite intoxicating.

We locked the car and headed down the lane and as if the switch on a great sound system had been flicked on, the bird life in the trees bordering the green exploded into a cacophony of sound as they emerged from their shelters to go about their spring business.

We turned off the lane into the woods where nature and man had both left their mark.

The areas that had once been coppiced or pollarded now went their own way and the woods were full of life.

On the borders of the woods the old cut and lay hedge and the ancient hedgerows along the lanes teamed with a great abundance of life of all kinds.

A sobering reflection on this idyllic scene is that all the visible life was either predator or prey but that did not detract from its beauty in fact it enhanced it if anything.

However the skies darkened again and the rain started to fall and we had to make a dash for the car, but by the time we reached the car we were soaked to the skin and we quickly scrabbled into the car as if fearful we would get even wetter if indeed that were even possible.

Just as I closed the door the lightning struck again and then the thunder shook the car violently once more.

What a wonderful and remarkable time spring is wherever you are but in the British Isles the unpredictability transforms, almost in a heartbeat, from tranquility to chaos and back again, and you know I don’t think I would want to live anywhere else.

 

ON THE PLANTATION

 

On the plantation

Nothing can be finer

Than a bevy of Quail

In South Carolina