Gather in the woodland lilies
Kissed
with natures gentle dew
Lay
them on the polished oak
And
bid your love a fond adieu
Gather in the woodland lilies
Kissed
with natures gentle dew
Lay
them on the polished oak
And
bid your love a fond adieu
Thistledown, in idle flight
Drifts
upon the highland wind
Like
ancestral spirits
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
The
night wrapped the glen
In
its dark shroud
I stood on the wet sand
On
that cold autumn morning
In
the autumn of my years
With
the breeze off the sea
Chilling
my old bones
And
gazed out across the bay
To
the distant purple hills
Their
edges blurred and softened
By
the early morning mist
Their
indistinct silhouette
Reflected
on the moving water
The
tidal water pulling at the reflection
As
it moved inexorably to the open sea
And
seemingly carrying with it
All
of my unfulfilled hopes and dreams
With
a shiver I turned from the scene
And
made my way along the beach
My
eyes were drawn to the hillside
Where
the sparsely covered trees stand
With
the last of the leaves falling
Each
fluttering to the ground
Each
leaf’s fall symbolic
Like
the dates of a calendar
Being
peeled off one by one
Ticking
off the days of my life
As
I head towards my winter
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
It was unbearably hot
Unbearably
humid
Even
breathing was exhausting
Overcome
with fatigue
I
parked my jeep at the roadside
In
a shaded spot
I
recline my seat
And
pulled my hat over my eyes
And
tried to grab forty
My
shirt was soaked with sweat
And
stuck to me and the seat
It
was no good I couldn’t sleep
It
was the constant noise
But
not from the traffic
Rumbling
by
It
was the birds
Squabbling
parakeets
Hundreds
of them
Chattering
and squawking
I
gave up trying to nap
And
got back underway
You
come to expect this
Next
to an Australian highway
But
not parked in a lay-by
Next
to a reservoir in Staines
The crystal waters
Wash
gently onto
Virgin
white sand
Untrod
by man
Unspoiled
by technology
And
no vapour trails
Mark
the azure sky
The
trees untended
Lay
where they fell
The
coconuts un-harvested
But
for the wind
Lay
untouched also
They
beach stretched
As
far as the eye could see
Far
into the distance
Un-marked
and un-scarred
No
buildings
No
phone masts
No
pylons
No
wind farms
Or
streetlights
The
only sounds to be heard
Were
the waves breaking,
The
gentle breeze in the palms
And
assorted birdcalls
No
gunfire
No
car alarms
No
train whistles
No
sonic booms
Or
traffic
Just
a perfect silence
No
flotsam of plastics and tins
Littered
the beach
Just
endless white sand’s
And
perfect blue skies
The
rustles of palm fronds
And
warm scented breezes
So
where is this paradise?
It’s
in the long distant past
The mist cascaded down the hillside Like a maiden’s hair Tumbling onto her shoulders The bare branches of the birch trees Pierced ...