A Wandered Weave!
A playful pair – of Red Kites swirling – so low in the sidings,
Igniting my journey under a patchwork sky of blues and greys!
I leave my sleep on my pillow – alighting beside the Weeping Willow,
Rambling onward past the early Snowdrops – up the rise on familiar ways!
The recent rain it puddles – as they gather in their huddles,
While the smoothed earthen clays display their wildlife trails!
The stream it races and gambols – with its eagerness all a splutter,
While the rain washed air it holds things close – a winter morning lives its tales!
Three Wood Pigeons scramble – as the Crows they preamble,
I am greeted by the Seasonal bare bones of the trees!
There’s a wandered weave of Mole hills meandering,
As I brace against the chill of the biting breeze!
Huddled close I skirt the outer circle with the awakening set to pounce,
Skeletal fingers they bristle with buds – forming in the elemental stew!
Soaking up – the sights and sounds – with a nod to the chair as I do the rounds,
With the calling warmth of the Sun in the south – where I sit to absorb the view!
Robin scales the Dogwood – with hurried flits of excitement,
The poet and the watcher – an audience echoed – reflecting on the scene!
In and out of focus through the veil of Hazel catkins,
A bundle of energy with a weightless delicacy – patrolling the Gallery green!
The entrance path stirs – the arrival of the Gate Keeper with his familiar gait,
There’s a kindred togetherness with a welcome gathering – working on a plan!
There are commentary highlights – of the webs of life and their intricacies,
With the small world syndrome – uncovering the identity in the name of man!
With the fire-pit cleared for the avoidance of casualties,
A box of prepared combustibles is introduced unto the flame!
Setting up the base where fire unfurls – serenaded by the smoking curls,
Engulfed in moments with timeless offerings – to the fire starters exclaim!
With attention to detail leading us out of the wind – into the shed and Bunkhouse,
Where the theory of Spring Clean is way overdue!
Taking advantage of the adverse conditions – to tidy away the timely build-up,
Where pottering flows sure and steady – to a rhythm pure and true!
A close calling of the Buzzard brings a mass evacuation,
The spotters with their eyes carefully scouring the skies!
Arriving from the west in graceful cultured circles,
It’s accompanied by a second – inter-weaving patterns and comes as a nice surprise!
The borders of second breakfast are pushed toward lunch,
When we reconvene with Robin and we share our words!
I try in vain to shake the numb from my toes,
As I lose myself in the scenery – while I listen to the birds!
Time slides by with Imbolc preparations – where the pots dance on the breezes,
Across the Roundhouse – footprint contours – as they rise and fall!
With the intuition – of a man on a mission – with each they hear the calling,
The dedicated they tour their duty – a case of teamwork one and all!
Exuding pride in a job well done – the clock starts ticking,
With the calling of destiny to roll me away!
Tucking in the fire to smoulder gracefully,
Its one out all out – making our exit – as contentment rules the day!
The cracked road leads us away – slowly more distant,
As we wander through memories on the seasonal tide!
A triplicate riot of Blue Tit colouring – spiralling away along the hedgerow,
The wheels on the bus go round and round – for another a bicycle ride!