SCENE THROUGH FROSTED GLASS

 

In the sheltered winter lowlands

Every inch and acre

Are dusted white, almost as if

Sugared by a cake decorator

AS THE STORM FRONT CLOSES IN

 

As the storm front closes in

The Gulls desert the cliff top

To find safe haven deep inland

And wait for the storm to stop

THE FISHING BOATS BOB AND DANCE

 

The fishing boats bob and dance

Driven by weather to the south

Making slow progress in the swell

As they approach the harbour mouth

ON THE EDGE OF A STORM

 

Swooping Gulls screech alarms

High above the cliff top

As white horses ride the waves below

And the tide is broken to a stop

THE FAMILY PORTRAIT

 

My face has been washed clean

And my hair is the best it’s been

So I must smile and not fidget

For the annoying photographer twit

But when he asks “where’s the birdie”

I will frown and look surly

ROMANCE BY THE SHORE

 

Walking together, hand in hand,

As we strolled across wet sand

The sun sets, as the day grows old

Turning silver seas to shining gold.

We continue our walk in twilight

Before the moon illuminated the night

And the stars adorned the heavens

But the sea breeze soon freshens

And surf moved higher up the shore

So, we headed back home once more

FROM THE ICY SUMMIT

 

From the icy summit

Of the mountain high

It begins to trickle,

Toward its destiny,

Trickle becomes rivulet

Rivulet into stream

Gathering momentum

Descending quickly

Its method brilliant

In its simplicity

Following the path

Of least resistance

On its purposeful descent

Growing ever stronger

In the great race

To its destination

Influenced by gravity

As it powers on

Ever deeper, ever wider

Ever more rapidly   

To form great rivers

Heading for their destiny

Which is fulfilled

When reaching the open sea