A Diary Page!
Tainted by tiredness – under the smile of the Sun – alighting aside of the stream,
Amidst the seasonal smells – there are fond farewells – living the familiar dream!
Feasting our eyes – on the beckoning rise – following the foot-falls that echo an age,
Gathering in the visions – the stuff of stories – immortalised forever on a diary page!
As always through the gateway – suspended in time – the peace it oozes calm,
Reflection revels and all in the green – the highlight of Hawthorn exuding its charm!
Countless flower-bursts – frothing in miniature – the peak of perfection in delicate pose,
A blanket of flowers – covering the resplendent bowers – smelling so sweet on the nose!
Robin moves in – for closer inspection – as we make of our way in the round,
The blossom of Discovery – dotted here and there – with heads toward the ground!
Lizzie’s Orange Pippin and its deep pink buds in cluster – unveiling its early watershed,
A Mouse it scurries by – to Glentaowen’s eye – in the frame for the impending Holly Bed!
The Moon Garden Goat Willows – flaunting their catkins – dancing on the breeze,
Decisions are made – on the Aldar parade – in the corner anyone seldom sees!
The hedgerow frontage – billows to overflowing – before rounding the bend to the east,
To where the Willow imposes – held in threads of wild Roses – soon to be released!
Past the Beltane Hawthorn and on to the Bluebells – a solo Foxglove reaching tall,
Out on to the Gallery and its deep pile carpet – as the purple Borage bears its all!
The Twisted Hazel contrives its tight contorting’s – with its catkins on display,
Positioned between the ditch and the Roundhouse footprint – soaking up the day!
The clouds roll in on a sea of ruffles – keeping us guessing to its true intent,
Shading greys – dark and light come and going – to a more or less extent!
A Buzzard sweeps by – from the Southern sky – close and personal above our heads,
Turning in circles – on the tide of thermals – holding attention on a weave of threads!
Bold is the Robin – adventuring all quarters – availing a view from post and stone,
A wild Geranium peeks from under the Dogwood – by the Forget-me-nots and all alone!
Mesmerizing the lush green leaves enclosing – with keen new life in all its bloom,
Beth the Pear shows signs of a fruiting amassing – as the buds they fight for room!
Robin supervises the movement of preparation – with its seasonal glory foretold,
Echoes repeating in a pool of ripples – the files of memory we have and do hold!
Growth it comes lately with the swell of numbers – and the posy shapes its form,
Assembled in the collective – from hither and thither – with the urge to keeping warm!
To and fro comes the Crow – in a host of variations – the Doves fly high and low,
The Pigeons in flight – match the grey of the light – as they come and go!
Songbirds sing their melodies – one of Nature’s remedies – as the incense fills the air,
The Roundhouse bustles with the call to order – held in the moment – we are there!
The Gong and the drum – follow the trail of low hum – led by the flicker of flame,
A melody of harmony sung under the breath – as does one and all the same!
Stepping off the circulation to anchor the roots – going with the flow of the wheel,
Finding of our grounding within the Silver Birch – a connection that’s for real!
There’s a toast of welcome charging the Ancestor’s Goblet – a toast to one and all,
Sharing seasonal celebration in the Beltane flushing with its annual script to call!
We honour the moment – dressed in the green – as the Green Man sows his seed,
We each plant a Cowslip – to life and its living – with their beauty guaranteed!
With the Closing’s close – we take to our sun-wise toes – retiring through the fires,
A pair of fire-pits blazing – Beltane is truly amazing – deep within the shires!
I contemplate my smoke rings – in the drifting the fire-smoke brings – upon the air,
The rains stayed away – from the joy of the day – a perfect blessing for all to share!
Lost in the weaving of the smoky trails – the wind chases the thread ends away,
Within a pause for thought that slow engages – encouraging the senses to play!
Encapsulating memories in dreams of focus – while the spirit seeks future’s dawn,
Pilot placed on automatic – engaging in the panoramic – a flame alight ‘til morn!
Dividing with the spoils – we pack our personal jewels – a casual banter has its say,
The bond of collective – breathes its kindred air – on the finest Beltane day!
The elements conducive in their subtle performance – with the circle dance of the trees,
With the turn of the tide – we retire for the ride – as the distance so decrees!