WHITE NIGHT

Like a ribbon of pure white silk

The road crossed the dale

Frost coated the window pains

While the moonlight bathed the vale

 

Under the star filled winter sky

Icicles are illuminated by moonlight

The stark beauty of the landscape

Is best viewed in the glow of the firelight

LOOK AT THEM

 

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

A PASSING CIVILIZATION

 

Fast food packaging

Hits the ground

As a car passes

Paper cups dance

In the artificial breeze

As a lorry passes

In the shrubbery

Tin cans and wrappers lie

As a pedestrian passes

Tickets, receipts, cartons

Bottles, tins and old refrigerators

Each successive piece surpasses

But nature will overcome

Our laziness and contempt

When our tenancy passes

WATER WAY

 

From the mountain high

On the summit icy

It begins to trickle

Toward its destiny

Trickle becoming stream

Very quickly

Its method brilliant

In its simplicity

It follows the path

Of least resistance

In its great race

To go the distance

Growing ever stronger

Under gravity

Deeper wider

And ever more rapidly   

A great river now

Heading for its destiny

And it’s fulfilled

When reaching the sea

SHORELINE

We walk together hand in hand

As we stroll across wet sand

The sun sets, as the day grows old

Turning silver seas to shining gold

We continue our walk-in twilight

As the moon illuminates the night

And the stars adorn the heavens

The sea breeze soon then freshens

Surf moves higher up the shore

We head back to home once more 

STORM FRONT

 

The gulls screech and scream

Swooping above the cliff top

On the waves below white horses ride

As the tide surge is broken to a stop

 

Fishing boats appear to dance

Driven by the weather to the south

They make slow progress in the swell

As they bob towards the harbour mouth

 

As the weather quickly closes in

The gulls desert the cliff top

Making their way inland to safety

Waiting patiently for the storm to stop

THROUGH FROSTED GLASS

 

The sheltered lowlands

In valleys by the acre

Dusted white as if

Sugared by a cake decorator

A picturesque fairyland

A scene of pure delight

Viewed through a window

You avoid the winter’s bite

Trees stripped bare

Dressed now in ice and frost

Shiver in the wind

Longing for the summer lost