Old man winter’s touch
Transforms the
landscape,
Trees wear a frosting
As if dusted by a
baker
Snow fall blurs the
edges
And disguises
definition
Of familiar landmarks
And frozen streams
appear
Like pure white
ribbons
Casually discarded in
the vale
The snow has come, its falling fast
I dance around my room and cheer
Soon it’ll be time to build a snowman
The same one I make
every year
When the snow is lying deep and fresh
I go to the cupboard in my room
Where I get his gloves, scarf and hat
And of course his Birchwood broom
Mum says “don’t you stay out too long”
But she knows that I don’t listen
She knows that it takes me some time
To build the perfect
Mr Glisten
I start in the same
place on the lawn
Where I make the body
large and round
Then for his head I
roll a smaller ball
Rolling it around on
the snowy ground
Each year it takes me
a little longer
As he rises up from
the fallen snow
And soon he is
standing taller than me
As like me each year
he also grows
Down his front go the
pebble buttons
From his neck down to
the floor
And his stick arms
wear his gloves
Which don’t really fit
him anymore
Then I put on his scarf and hat
His Birch broom stands by his side
Marbles to make his blue eyes shine
And a stick mouth
smiling wide
Finally, the carrot
nose goes in place
And I step back to
admire at the end
Gazing at the happy snowman face
Then I say “Hello my old friend”
My breath plumed in the frost filled air,
As I stood in the hush of a winter night,
Beneath the deep velvet blue of the night sky,
Filled with a myriad of glistening stars
And while I stand beneath its majesty
My futile thoughts are lost in its enormity
and I'm suddenly startled
Not just by the
staggering beauty
But by my own insignificance in its glory.
And as I stand beneath the heavens
I feel alone, hopeless and helpless.
While a bitter chill touches my bones.
I continue to walk on the linen shrouded land
Footsteps treading crisply in the white
And my breath still plumes, though less so
As the velvet curtain of night has gone
Hidden behind a dark blanket of cloud
And then the cold frosty night was no more
As the wind freshened against my cheek
And in that instant fresh snow began to fall
Seemingly silencing my footfalls.
Large soft flakes drifting haphazardly
Like confetti on a
happy wedding day
Or cherry blossom in a perfect spring.
Soon it fell faster, then faster still
Quickly obscuring my footprints
And blinding my view, disorienting me
As a bitter chill again touched my bones
The wind now stung my face with snow
As the blizzard of bridle white blew at me
And I bent into the northerly gale
Head down eyes narrowed, almost closed.
I stopped briefly to catch my breath
And insignificance washed over me again.
I knew I must go north into the mouth of it
The silent hush was no
more as the blizzard blew
And the strengthening
wind whistled.
My feet no longer crunched on frost and ice
And the deepening snow slowed my progress
Each step I had to drag my feet from the snows grip
And with each step I grow wearier
Feeling hopeless and helpless again
Alone, insignificant and small,
Smaller than a single snow flake
Smaller than any of the snowflakes around me
A bitter chill again touched my bones
Then suddenly I am once more filled with hope
As I pass between the old wrought iron gates
And on into the city
street beyond
And with treated pavement
beneath my feet
I left the park behind
me and returned home
Jack Frost, with icy fingers,
Holds winter in his frozen hand
Until his thick winter
cloak
And bathed the landscape
In its bright lunar
light
So that the ice
crystals sparkled
Like diamonds in the
snow
A soft blanket of white
Hid the land from
sight
And despite winters
bite
Was a scene of pure
delight
The ice rimed trees stood
Before the snow queens
cathedral
Like great ice pillars
Snowflakes gently float,
Pure white down of
angel’s wings,
Down from heavens
height
Frosty kaleidoscope images
Appear on the frozen
panes
Touched by winters icy
fingers
In the bitter seasons
domain
Is pleasing to the eye
But this thing of
beauty
Will cruelly linger
For harshly caressed
Is the naked earth
When touched
By winters icy finger
Lightly covering every
acre
A generous white
dusting, as if
Sugared by a cake
decorator
The French Marigold is more than
Just a pretty flower
of the daisy family
It is also used in
companion planting
For many vegetable
crops.
Its root secretions
kill nematodes
And their presence repels
harmful insects,
Such as white flies on
tomatoes
The French Marigold is more than
Just a pretty flower
of the daisy family
The Tagetes Patula florets
Are grown and
harvested annually
To produce a golden
yellow dye
To colour animal-based
textiles
The French Marigold is more than
Just a pretty flower
of the daisy family
The Tagetes Patula florets
Are grown and
harvested annually
And added to poultry
feed which
Helps to give the
yolks a golden colour
The French Marigold is more than
Just a pretty flower of the daisy family
In the Republic of Georgia in the Caucasus,
Tagetes Patula flowers are dried and ground
To make the Georgian
spice Imeretian Saffron
An essential
ingredient in the spice mixture
Khmeli-Suneli, which
in Georgian cuisine
Is on a par with Garam
Masala in Northern India
Georgians share
elements of Mughlai cuisine
The French Marigold is more than
Just a pretty flower
of the daisy family
The Tagetes Patula is
actually
Native to Mexico and
Guatemala
With flowers of
blended red and yellow
Combine to give the
pleasing sight
Of the vibrant Golden
headed sentries
Along the herbaceous
borders edge
The Shrew has the look of a long-nosed mouse,
But it is not a rodent,
in fact it’s a cousin of the mole,
And they are foragers
where the find seeds, insects,
Nuts, and worms, in
leaf litter and dense vegetation
And will take advantage
of arable farmland fields
And reap the benefit
of corn, wheat and barley ears
My father made exceptionally good homemade wine
And it was his
passion, and he used nature’s larder
For his ingredients and
his favourite was Sambucus
Better known as Elder
or more often Elderberry
In spring he used the small
white or cream-colored flowers
For his Elder flower
concoction, then later in the season
He picked clusters of
small black, blue-black, or red berries
And produced his
locally renowned Elderberry Wine
Which was a fruity and
subtle drink with a spectacular bite
On my daily walks the Foxgloves thrive
Especially in a new
woodland clearing
And on the heath after
a devastating fire
But my favourite
display is on the rocky tops
Of the cliffs overlooking
the sea
A fearful hare goes to ground
And startled Pheasants
take flight
Where guns wait expectantly
For their quarry to
come into sight
They appear above the
guns
Then the ragged
volleys sound
Announcing the birds
death knell
And they fall
gracelessly to the ground
Where eager to please
gundogs,
Who think it’s a game
to play
Retrieve the birds and
drop them
Where the still
smoking cartridges lay
Winters wrath near sweeps me off my feet
As snow and ice join the skin stinging sleet
Who would be outside
during the bitter season
A sensible being would
need a good reason
To be wrapped up in
hat, scarf and glove
In the teeth of a
storm and for me it was love
The sounds of nature plays a symphony
In the summer, fall, winter
and spring
The rain and hail,
blizzard and storm
Even the wind in the trees has a song to sing
On strong wings
In perfect flight
The eagle appears
Slowly circling
Until its prey
Comes into view
And it swoops
To take its victim
Majestically on the
wing
And carries the spoils
To the hungry mouths
Waiting in the eyrie
The eagle soars
On majestic wings
Effortless in flight
Riding thermals
In the moist early morning
Dew drops embrace
The willow stems
Like lovers tears
Until they evaporate
Under the sunlight’s
caress
Above the horizon
The beauty of a sunrise,
Slowly emerges and
Illuminates the sky
And as it spreads into the morn
It burns red on the calm water
As a cool pleasant
breeze
Drifts gently across
the bay
Gales are driving waves
Against the resilient
shore,
And pounding
Them on to the rocks,
While on the edge of
the wind
There is distant
thunder sounding
The narwhale lived year-round
In the Arctic waters
around
Greenland, Canada, and
Russia
Along with its cousin
the Beluga
The narwhale males fished
The waters, and are
distinguished
With its long straight
helical horn
Like a predatory
arctic unicorn
In the depths of purple clouds
Soft and temperate as the night
Masks the setting of the sun
And hides the fading
of the light
