In the lee of the mountains with snow on the ground
Sits a quaint little village with hills all around
No sign can be seen of the green grassy hills
For they lay neath the
snow in the wintery chill
But the people are
happy and get on with their lives
All the brothers and
sisters and husbands and wives
For they know that
soon the snow will turn to rain
And then they will see
their green hills again
In the rain forests the Trogon dwells
Eating insects, fruit,
and seeds
A bird with the most
lustrous plumage
Nesting in holes in
the trees
You’ll find the Pademelon
Beneath the rainforest
trees
As they hop in search
of food
In the cool of the evening breeze
Its springtime
When beauty is released
Like a hand stitched
Patchwork masterpiece
Nature shows off
Her springtime finery
Spread like a throw
Over all you see
No finer sight the eye will see
Than the hillsides in
May
A carpet of green
spread out
So as to take your
breath away
The high melt waters rush
Feeding springs annual
event
As over the ancient
rock
Water tumbles
effervescent
As it heads inexorably
to the sea
In its headlong
descent
The early morning sun
Glints on the ambling
stream
Where the Kingfisher
hunts
And lovers go to dream
The snowflakes drift upon the wind
And settle on the
windowsill
But also on the winter
winds
Comes the sting of
winters chill
In the sunlight it flatters to deceive
But don’t be fooled by
its calm exterior
For beneath the
welcoming surface
You will succumb to
its true nature
Its lures you into a
false sense of security
Its intent is to drag
you to its depths
Sap your strength,
every ounce of energy
And squeeze from your
body every breath
She will let you
surface for a breath
Then drag you down
again out of reach
Then when she has
toyed with you enough
She dumps you lifeless
on the beach
Long lazy summer days
Collecting shells along the shore
Long lazy childhood days
I wish them back once more
Wildflowers in the meadow
The lark up in the sky
The days are long and
languid
The land is warm and
dry
The lazy days of
summer
Just pass you slowly
by
The summer comes to an end
Sooner than anyone
believes
And so begins autumns
festival
Of dancing painted
leaves
As spring comes around again
With its abundant
falling rain
The rolling hills of
luscious green
Are most pleasing to
be seen
And with the renewal
of spring
The heart lifts as if
taking wing
When Daffodils break
through
And spring flowers of
every hue
Is there a better time
on earth
To feel wealth of
nature’s worth
Newlands Corner
Is one of my most
favourite places
I’ve always loved it
there
When I look out across
the patchwork
Of rolling Surrey
Hills,
The chalk grasslands
The ancient woodlands
And the villages
nestling there
I feel a deep calm and
peace
Penetrating my soul
It’s almost
overwhelming
Like the weight of the
world
Is lifted from my
shoulders
It as if His hand on
my shoulder
Oh, dreary winter
You have overstayed
Your grey skies
Are not welcome
I know spring is close
I look at the grey
lake
With the duck on it
The only splash of
colour
In the late winter
landscape
But I see the hints of
spring
Everywhere around me
And the promise of
daffodils
Lilacs and butterflies
So, winter it’s time
to go
Your welcome is worn
out
There she perches
Queen of her domain
Keen Eagle eyes
scanning the scene
Head never still
Then in the water
A silvery glint
And she’s airborne
Gliding with silent
grace
Almost aimlessly
Then with perfect
timing
She strikes to take
the rising fish
And with it safe in
her talons
She sets off to
deliver
The silver prize to her young
Under the rich December sky
Breath plumed in the
frost filled air
The winter sky
sparkled with stars
Like diamonds stitched
to the curtain of night
The moon was almost
full
And from that December
moon
The lunar light bathed
the landscape
So that light sparkled
on the ice crystals
Creating a myriad of
twinkling stars
To mimic their
celestial cousins
It was a bracing walk
The sun shone brightly
on the lake,
A weak autumnal sun,
Bright but un-warming
And a light wind
stirred the branches
Of the leafless
weeping cherry tree
And added to the chill
The familiar pair of
resident ducks
Bobbed on the choppy
surface
Seemingly oblivious to
the cold
Mist on the distant
mountains
Hinted at what was to
come
By the time I pushed
open my front gate
I was suitably
refreshed
And glad to be home
That night the storm
hit
A storm that began as
a hurricane
Far out across the
ocean
Then as it hit the
land
It was merely a
tropical storm
When it got to us it
was just a storm
But what a storm it
was
Thick black clouds
turning day to night
It rained and promised
to rain even more
Inches and inches of
rain
Large gray drops ran
down the bare trees
And splashed on the
grey waters of the lake
Bouncing off the green
and brown backs
Of the resilient
swimming ducks
The Hurricanes
remnants
Took three days to
pass
And left the lake
considerable deeper
.
In the calm after the
storm
We basked in the
warmth
Of a bonus summers
like day
Left in the tropical storms
wake
The two ducks swam
lazily across the still water
Bees were out looking
for flowers
Ants crawled around in
the grass,
Adding to their winter
stock of food.
And squirrels
chattered away
As they searched for
acorns and pine nuts
And ran amongst the
shadows
Of the dogwood trees
A blue heron flew to
the very top
Of the leafless
weeping cherry tree
Doubtless lost in the
storm
It spent the day
recharging its batteries
And getting its
bearings
Later it joined the
ducks on the water
Obviously to ask
directions
The next day summer
had gone again
And autumn had
returned
The day began with an
overcast sky and chilly breeze
Later as I walked for
a while beside the lake
It had become a warm
and sunny day.
Warm of course, is a
relative term
It was above freezing,
just
The sun was bright;
the wind light but cold
All was silent, the
waters calm
A duck slept in the
shadow
Of the leafless
weeping cherry
The other was close by
but silent
And the blue heron was
perched,
Motionless, on the top
of the bare dogwood
Before it launched
itself
And after circling the
lake once it was on its way
The squirrels were
hiding
I saw no bees
searching for flowers
And the ants were out
of sight
Winter arrived yesterday
With heavy snow falling
in the morning
Then the skies cleared
And the temperature
plummeted
Today the landscape
wass even more beautiful
And the lake was
frozen
The ducks were no
where to be seen
I don’t know where
they go
But they always come
back
The ground is crisp under
foot
And it is very very
cold
The squirrels were the
only creatures I saw
And they were happily
raiding their stores
Feasting on acorns and
chasing around
I decided it was too
cold for me
And headed for the
fireside
Too reflect on this
week’s abundance of seasons
They say nature is perfect
They say nature is
beautiful
But they are so wrong
Nature is ugly and
brutal
Oh, it looks pretty in
a picture
I quite accept it all
looks nice
But don’t be fooled
Nature will kill you
in a trice
It doesn’t matter
where you go
If you look closely
enough
Something is eating
something else
Nature is cruel and
tough
Its dog eat dog its
bird eat frog
Its fish eat fish its
whale eat seal
In nature it seems to
me
Everything is some
body’s meal
So don’t try telling
me
That nature is perfect
and wonderful
I don’t need the
natural world
I can go to London if
I want brutal
The early morning sunlight
Creeps across the
meadow,
Where in the wet grass
The rabbits make their
dawn patrol
In the meadows quiet
corners
The sun glints on
dewdrops
Trapped within the
intricacies
Of a labyrinthine
spiders web
Though the morning sun
is weak
And too soft to burn
the mist
It still banishes the
darkness
And another day begins
Beneath my shoeless feet
The sun scorched sand
Burned those who dwelt
too long
In admiration of the
vista
Beneath the swaying
fronts
In the shadow of the
palms
The white sands
Offered cool respite
I rested a while
Before I journeyed
Across the sun-baked
sand
To become immersed
In the cool of the
ocean
Before the dawn has fully broken
I am all at once
awoken
By wondrous songbird
symphony
Though to some it is
cacophony
But to hear the dawn
chorus
Singing songs, loud
and joyous
So my heart is simply
soaring
For the season that
I’m adoring
Now that its Spring my
heart is lifted
For another Spring
that God has gifted
When daffodils burst
from the ground
And in the breeze they
dance around
Grass is growing lush
and green
The greenest that it
has ever been
And with cherry
blossom on the tree
Spring is here for all
to see
The north wind blows
it ills
The wind, the wind,
the wind that chills
Then the snow falls on
the hills
The north wind softly
blows
The wind, the wind,
the wind that slows
Then the snow falls
down below
Silently falling
although the night
Inch upon inch
covering everything in sight
Fresh and clean lies
the white
The children run in
hat and glove
They run, they run in
the snow they love
The snow that flutters
from above
The north wind dies
away
Then the rain, the
rain spoils the children play
But the snow will come another day
In the lochs reflection
Could be glimpsed
The gentle caress of
clouds
Atop the granite peaks
Before they thickened
To hide the Ben
Then separated like
parting friends
To reveal the stark
silhouette
Against the blue
And through these
inconsistent clouds
The sun would burst
Illuminating the glen
And its heathered
hills
As the clouds moved
west
The sunbeam moved
Like a torches light
And in the distance
The hills appeared to
move
As if in a lantern
show
Then on the freshening
wind
From the west
Squally showers blew
in
And the sun painted
A rainbow across the
sky
And as quickly as it
had arrived
The showers blew away
And the rainbow faded
Evaporating to nothing
Then the sun began to
set
Beyond the western
isles
And turned the sky red
With streaks of pink
and gold
Decorating the whole
sky
And when the sun sank
Beyond those misty
isles
As late summer
Heads towards the
autumn
Great industry is
evident
In the golden fields
As the tireless
farmers
Gather in nature’s
bounty
And come days end
The weary labourers
Tread across the
fields
Once full of waving
corn
The fields now adorned
With flaxen structures
These sons of the soil
Look upon the scene
With pride and relief
Pride in a job well
done
And relief at
finishing
While the good weather
held
They head towards the
village
With heads held high
And parched throats
Soon to be quenched
The entire village
joins them
To celebrate the
gathering
Raising a glass or two
Laughter resounding
As they watch the
setting sun
A white cloud
Appears on the once
Clear blue afternoon
sky
Like a careless
splodge of white
On the blue canvas of
an artist
It bubbles up
Then races across the
blue
Another appears bigger
this time
Then another and
another
And as they move
across the sky
They cast their
shadows across the land
Patches of light and
dark
Appear to move over
the landscape
Like a giant
kaleidoscope
One of the sunny
patches
Illuminates the
weeping cherry
Where the gold finches
sing
Then there is more
cloud than sky
The small white clouds
Have now bubbled up
and darkened
And from the lake the
Geese speak
To no one in
particular
Saying that a storm is
coming
In the distance the
mountains
Stand out starkly
Against the ever
darkening sky
The first sounds of
thunder
Roll around the valley
Sounding like a
distant train
Getting nearer and
louder
Silent lightning
streaks
Across the blackening
clouds
Then a thunder clap
Not to be mistaken for
a distant train
Large raindrops hit
the ground
Dappling the dry earth
Strumming on the roof
tops
And the tops of parked
cars
In a reassuring rhythm
And as the last dry
spot disappeared
The torrent began
Falling vertically
like monsoon rains
Lightning streaks
dazzled the eyes
And almost instant thunder
shook the house
The waters of the lake
Erupted like a pot
coming to the boil
And day was turned to
night
Slowly the rain eased
And the storm rolled
on
Blue coloured the
skies again
The Geese spoke again
from the lake
Gold finches sang once
more
And the air was filled
with the scent of wet pines
God’s great cycle of life’s repeating
Springtime’s annual
event occurring
As distant mountain
snow is thawing
Fast flowing swollen
rivers causing
Dormant Mother Nature
awakening
The miracle of new
life into breathing
With freshly sprouting
shoots arriving
And simple sights the
senses pleasing
To see the early
cherry blossoming
Perfection as in God’s
design believing
While he sat in the coffee shop, he gazed out the window at the
beautiful scenery of spring, namely the women.
He loved the spring when it arrived; it was such a long time between
the last glimpse of thigh in the autumn and the first sign of cleavage in the
spring, and it had been a very long winter.
Springtime was when all the girls cast off their winter vests and
exposed their pallid flesh.
It was the time of year when hastily shed warm clothing led to a
disproportionate number of girls with nipples erected by the cool air.
So, a combination of underdressed girls and the seasonal rising sap
meant he was almost permanently on the brink of arousal.
They bloom in summertime
Blooms of golden
orange
Heads the size of
saucers
Unnaturally strange
They stand tall and
straight
And super model thin
Large headed and
skinny
Just like models again
Not grown for beauty
But for their numerous
seeds
Ugly and ungainly
These giant unwanted
weeds
Maybe I’m wrong to
view them
As one of nature’s
messes
But I can’t help
thinking
They’re not one of God’s
successes
The grey skies are stormy and wild,
Strong winds gust and batter the land,
Rain carried by the squall
Peppers the windows
like gravel
And stings the faces
of the unfortunate traveller
God protect those
caught abroad
On such a foul day as
this
The winds whistle
round the buildings
And make rag dolls of
the trees
Being inside looking
out is preferable
Warming by the fire
with glass in hand
Loved ones safe about
you
Ride out the storm in
comfort
Until the stormy gales
subside
Beneath azure blue skies
Beside a silent pool
A bird sings in the
stillness
Its sweet song
drifting
On the lemon scented
breeze
As evening approached
I love this land, village and hamlet
Rose covered cottage,
church and mill
I love this land,
coast and country
Mountain and lake,
vale and hill
I love this land, town
and city
Seat of power,
cathedral and mall
I love this land,
north and south
River and stream,
grand and small
I love this land, old
and new
Castle and semi,
factory and farm
I love this land, this
England of mine
This modern, historic,
country of charm
The sky blackened
Dark as night
Then comes the flash
Of a Lightning strike
As the storm ensued
Panic struck me
Thunder rattled
overhead
I fell upon me knees
I prayed to God
Spare me this day
I prayed to God
To chase the storm
away
Then the skies
lightened
And silence was all
around
A gentle rain fell
As I raised from the ground
Then everywhere about
me
Cherry blossoms blew
Like gentle pink snow
And immediately I knew
You had heard my
prayer
You had protected me
You where there in
every petal
Of that cherry blossom
tree
In the late summer sky
The falcon in majestic
flight
Spied it’s unfortunate
prey
Then swooped down from
great height
With lightning speed
It took a pigeon on
the wing
Then with much less
grace and style
It performed a clumsy
landing
In a quiet village
garden
On the sunny patch of
grass
The falcon went about
its work
And performed the coup
de gras
From the house a
curious cat
Peered out with
envious eyes
Through a window as
the falcon
Devoured its pigeon
prize
The cat crept through
the cat flap
In its most stealthy
way
The falcon though was
off
But left behind its
pigeon prey
The cat inspected the
pigeon
Sniffed it and poked
it with her paw
Found it a
disappointment
And she strolled away
once more
As she strolled back
to the house
The falcon swooped to
the ground
Snatched up his pigeon
prize
Before the cat could
turn around
The falcon had taken
the bird
Leaving nothing in its
place
Leaving only feathers
on the lawn
And a scowl on the
cats face
Carrots and Swedes,
Fruits and Berries,
Potatoes and Grasses,
Beans and Peas,
Nuts and seeds,
Growing all around,
Mother nature’s
bounty,
Planted in the ground
Kingfisher, Kingfisher
A glint of silver
Catches your eye
And like an arrow
You dart with purpose
Beneath the water
With barely a splash
Disappearing for a
moment
Before returning
With the silver prize
Beneath the forest canopy
In the Emerald
darkness
Of the ancient wood
It was refreshingly
cool
But shadow soon gave
way
To the dappled shade
Where the sun pierced
The leafy veil
Littering the floor
With Golden discs of
light
And when the forest
thinned
We came upon a Deer
Grazing in a forest
glade
The sun burns bright above the blue
From above the clouds
up high
Shining brightly
through the rain
Painting rainbows
across the sky
The Red Dawn of a new day
A glimpse of heaven
Signifying a new beginning
Another precious gift
Another day of life
Not to be squandered
But be accepted
In the spirit it was
given
Thistledown, in idle flight
Drifts upon the
highland wind
Like ancestral spirits
Gather in the woodland lilies
Kissed with natures
gentle dew
Lay them on the
polished oak
And bid your love a
fond adieu
Ice and rain
Sleet and hail
Storm and tempest
Wind and gale
The rugged rock
Cannot prevail
Sweet bells
Long racemes
Of pinkish flowers
Abundant on
Bushy Deciduous shrubs
Across eastern States
In shades of red and orange
The sky burns with
fire
Clouds in sunset are
illuminated
Like smoke in a
funeral pyre
Whispering bells
The viscid herb
Inhabiting the arid
places
With its sticky leaves
And pendulous bell
like
Yellow flowers
Blooming in the desert
Of the south-western
states
The summer is ending
The flowers are dying
The meadows are still
And the geese are
flying
The Yellow bells
The viscid herb
Inhabiting the arid
places
With its sticky leaves
And pendulous bell
like
Yellow flowers
Blooming in the desert
Of the south-western
states
Summer flowers are blooming
In the scented meadows
Are the sun slowly
sets
Lengthening the
shadows
California Yellow bells
Inhabiting the arid
places
With pendulous bell
like
Yellow flowers
Blooming in the desert
The Mission bells
Blooming herb
Of the south-western
States
With dark purple
Bell-shaped flowers
Mottled with green
Tranquillity descends
And sunshine reigns
When the storm abates
And peace remains
Bees attended to the Roses
As Butterflies
fluttered by
The great artist mixed
his blue
And with it painted
the sky
And the sweet scent of
lavender
Lingered long on the
afternoon air
Should we ask for
better?
I don’t think we dare
Babbling stream into river
Flows on through the lea
Skirting woodland as it winds
On the move constantly
Cutting thru meadow
sweet
On its journey to the
sea
