JIMBO

 

I got a new dog from Battersea

And I have called him Jimbo

I now take him to obedience classes

Where they walk us to and fro

 

But when he should be at heel

Jimbo almost always runs away

And then he comes bounding back

When he is supposed to sit and stay

 

Then when he’s walking on the lead

I have to pull young Jimbo back

Or he’s round and round my feet

Until I end up lying on my back

 

We’ve stopped going to the classes

And I have a stick for him to chase

I can forgive my Jimbo anything

When he jumps up to lick my face

WILDERNESS

 

The fierce sun burned the land

Cracking stone, bleaching bone

Drying the rich earth to dust

To be blown on the four winds

Or washed away by unforgiving rains

So infrequent in their coming

 

Unable to penetrate the iron earth

Rain-washed off the barren land

Like it was a repellent oily hide

Leaving it sterile and infertile

To all but natures hardiest

Most determined to cling to life

 

In the fast-expanding wilderness

Beneath rocks and stones life goes on

Insects toil industriously on

While un-germinated seeds bide their time

Until nature smiles once more

On this harsh and arid land

I AM

 

I am the gentle warmth

Of a soft spring day

I am the sunlight

Glinting on the morning dew

I am the summer breeze

In a field of ripened corn

I am the aromatic air

Of a summer night

I am the autumn wind

Stripping bare the trees

I am the howling wind

In the teeth of a gale

I am the biting sting

Of icy rain and sleet

I am the silence

In the softly falling snow

I am silent

And invisible in the mists

I am the storm and tempest

I am the peace and quiet

I am the green man

I am the green goddess

I am the mother

THE BIRD WATCHER

 

Upon the wooded hill

The forest sentinel stood

Made from wind falls

Wooden scraps and ullage

Skilfully 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”

Uncanny Tales – (009) Spring was in the air

 

The lightning struck, intensely bright, followed in almost the same instance by the thunderclap directly overhead, so loud that it shook the car and then the rain began and fell heavily in large drops 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 and a rainbow appeared in the sky.

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 produced a smell that was quite intoxicating.

We locked the car and headed down the lane and as if the switch on a great sound system had been flicked on, 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 spring business.

We turned off the lane into the woods where nature and man had both left their 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 the 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.

However the skies darkened again and the rain started to fall and we had to make a dash for the car, but by the time we reached the car we were soaked to the skin and we quickly scrabbled into the car as if fearful we would get even wetter if indeed that were even possible.

Just as I closed the door the lightning struck again and then the thunder shook the car violently once more.

What a wonderful and remarkable time spring is wherever you are but in the British Isles the unpredictability transforms, almost in a heartbeat, from tranquility to chaos and back again, and you know I don’t think I would want to live anywhere else.

Uncanny Tales – (046) The April Showers

 

The lightning struck, intensely bright, followed in almost the same instance by the thunderclap directly overhead, so loud that it shook the car and then the rain began and fell heavily in large drops 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 and a rainbow appeared in the sky.

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 produced a smell that was quite intoxicating.

We locked the car and headed down the lane and as if the switch on a great sound system had been flicked on, 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 spring business.

We turned off the lane into the woods where nature and man had both left their 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 the 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.

However the skies darkened again and the rain started to fall and we had to make a dash for the car, but by the time we reached the car we were soaked to the skin and we quickly scrabbled into the car as if fearful we would get even wetter if indeed that were even possible.

Just as I closed the door the lightning struck again and then the thunder shook the car violently once more.

What a wonderful and remarkable time spring is wherever you are but in the British Isles the unpredictability transforms, almost in a heartbeat, from tranquility to chaos and back again, and you know I don’t think I would want to live anywhere else.

THE THROWS OF SPRING

 

Its springtime

When beauty is released

Like a hand stitched

Patchwork masterpiece

Nature shows off

Her springtime finery

Spread like a throw

Overall you see