Constructing a Gateway!
The low bright shimmer of the morning Sun – burns its way through the autumn chills,
Greeted by the flightpath of an informal Buzzard – as it calmly skirts the hills!
The form of the Willow Herb – fading and wasted – clinging to the last of their cotton seeds,
Drifting on the breeze through the maze of brambles – matted with Ivy – Nettles and Weeds!
A Magpie wanders as it plays by its self – between and betwixt – the hedges and trees,
In tumbles for rumbles perfecting its art – while purposeful Pigeons work the degrees!
The busy is the nature of nature’s calm – highlight sprays of swoops and sways,
The potential for life – sails the breeze on a parachute – the will of the wild of autumn days!
There’s a delicate trickle from the crystal stream – Pheasants in their multitude running away,
Edging up the field like a gaggle of children – lost in confusion they amble their day!
The leaves freefalling – they scatter the verges – converging in lines on the contour trails,
The morning frostings creep – seeping colours run deep – dressed in seductive veils!
The Crows they chatter – Mrs Blackbird sings a welcome – escorted by Robin as I enter the gate,
Led along the path to make my entrance – as Robin flits and fidgets in a heightened state!
The last of the Blackberries swelling in random clumps – coming to the end of their crop,
The bronze of the Rowan turned to rust – the claret of the Cherry – gone in one drop!
Clusters of Long-tail Tits – scan the Grove for morsel bits – sharing their gossip as they go,
Through the fading yellows of the Silver Birch – the Hawthorn Tree with its Ivy show!
Through the seasonal sleep of the Butterfly Garden – on to where the Dogwood’s line their bed,
On the slide of a tide – where their waves tend to glide – gone in a moment – full steam ahead!
A Lantern re-hinged using ancient tools – perfection rescued from a man and his cart,
Drilling pilot holes – with man–powered goals – from a by-gone age and its dying art!
Gathering the sticks and the fronds – with their time honoured bonds – shape takes basic form,
Second breakfast time runs – to the gurgling of tums – fuelling the fire to keep the workers warm!
Framing the gateway with wands of Hazel – with their notches – bumps and lumps,
Decorated in keeping with the reverence of Yew – with fronds of age and berried clumps!
Two fresh Willow rails – adding strength unto structure – wrapping around like comfort’s arms,
With love from the Moon garden – swaddled in sentiment – and full of nature’s charms!
Pheasants break out in a chorus of calamity – off to the west it shatters the still,
The Wood Pigeons and the Crows – trawl the fields in their rows – marching across the hill!
Mr Blackbird kicks the leaves – where the Dogwood weaves – announcing arrival to one and all,
The Wood Pigeons whistle as their flights stroke the air – all for one with an instinct call!
With the construction made – under a darkening shade – after stretches its day after noon,
With the peace of the moment – we leave it to rest – before our returning oh so soon!
With the gate behind me – upon my path – a string of Partridges scamper the field at its edge,
A pair of Male Pheasant’s strut – in casual wander – to the cover and the safety of the hedge!