WEATHER OR NOT # 2

The weather types keep on issuing they’re warning

And they keep bleating on about global warming

They even know the temperature to within a degree

In the summer of two thousand and ninety-three

We can expect out summers to be long and very hot

And our winters will be mild and damp like as not

Why should we believe that a heatwave will ignite?

When they can’t even get the two-day forecast right

PERCHED ON THE APPLE BOUGHS

 

Perched on the Apple boughs

The Finches sing a song to please

A song carried on the air, with

The scent of blossom on the breeze

THE BIRD WATCHER

 

Upon the wooded hill

The forest sentinel stood

Made from wind falls

Wooden scraps and ullage

Skillfully fashioned

To become, complete with binoculars

The birdwatcher

 

But all was not as it seemed

For the sentinel

Destined to forever study

What fell before his gaze

Every autumn

Turned his attention upon

His favorite birch tree

Who when the autumn wind blew

Began to shed her leafy canopy

All the year round he studied

In detail her fully covered form

But in the autumn, he could

Revel in her nakedness

The sentinel spoke to himself

“Oh, I’m getting a woody”

And with that his sap began to rise

“Oh no too soon, too soon”

Then all too suddenly it was over

So, upon the wooded hill

The frustrated forest sentinel stood

Staring through his binoculars

And telling himself

“There’s always next year”

BARK

 

Their whole life

Is etched into the bark

The trunks wear their story

To be read with the eye

Or touched like brail

Cracked and weathered

Like the face of an old mariner

Showing what was

And what is still

It protects like a pachyderm’s hide

Its the first line of defence

Against any aggressor

Then when the tree falls

It’s the last to die

SYMPHONIC NATURE

 

Nature fills the world with sound

An infinite orchestra free to air

The wind can caress the trees

Rustling the leaves gently

Or make them beat like a tambourine

It can whistle through canyons

And talk in the high grass

Then add the percussion of distant thunder

Water tumbling down stream

Waves crashing on a rocky shore

And rain falling on a leafy canopy

Then a chorus made up from every creature

The bird world, myriad in variety

From hummingbird to nightingale

To rooks and crows

And then the insects from

Rhythmic crickets to buzzing bees

And animal kind contribute

Howling hounds, roaring big cats

Trumpeting elephants and squeaking mice

And when the elements really get going

They can bring the house down

APRIL SHOWERS

 

The lightning struck, intensely bright, followed in almost the same instance by the thunderclap directly overhead that shook the car.

The rain continued to fall heavily 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.

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 the smell was intoxicating.

We locked the car and headed down the lane.

As if the switch on a great sound system had been flicked 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 business.

Then we turned off the lane into the woods where nature and man had left its 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 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.

Then the skies darken again, and the rain starts to fall, and we must make a dash for the car.

By the time we reach the car we are soaked to the skin and we quickly scrabble into the car as if it were possible to get any wetter.

Just as I close the door the lightning strikes again and then the thunder shakes the car once more.

What a wonderful and remarkable time spring is in the British Isles.

The unpredictability transforms, almost in a heartbeat, from tranquillity to chaos.

I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.

WHERE EAGLE’S DARE

 

Over mountains up on high

A lonely Eagle had to fly

For years he had been alone 

In the mountains on his own

Mostly he was a happy lad

But sometimes he got sad

So, decided to fly down below

For some “company” you know

 

It wasn’t a very long journey

Before he reached a leafy tree

Where he met a Tit called Tina

And there the Eagle had her

Then after he had had his way 

He bad farewell and flew away 

So, after the deed was done

And the Eagle had had his fun 

Tina said, “I am a little Tit

And I’ve had a little bit

And I liked it”

 

Over mountains up on high

A lonely Eagle had to fly

For years he had been alone 

In the mountains on his own

Mostly he was a happy lad

But sometimes he got sad

So, decided to fly down below

For some “company” you know

 

It wasn’t a very long journey

Before he reached a leafy tree

And he met a Dove called Daisy

Where the Eagle had her easily

Then after he had had his way 

He bad farewell and flew away 

So, after the deed was done

And the Eagle had had his fun 

Daisy Said, “I am a little dove

And I’ve had a little love

And I liked it”

 

Over mountains up on high

A lonely Eagle had to fly

For years he had been alone 

In the mountains on his own

Mostly he was a happy lad

But sometimes he got sad

So, decided to fly down below

For some “company” you know

 

Its journey wasn’t very harsh

And soon he reached a marsh

Where the met a Duck called Jo

And the Eagle had her just so

Then after he had had his way 

He bad farewell and flew away 

So, after the deed was done

And the eagle had had his fun 

Jo said, “I am a little Drake

And he made a big mistake

But I liked it”