Gliding on the Ride On!

Welcome to the morning – stretching and yawning – glory to the day,
The Sun is shining – a cloud with silver lining – I’m off to the Grove today!
An excited smile – It’s been a little while – a palette for the mind,
The expectant grip – sails a steady ship – where a look it goes to find!

Thanks to Mrs Glen – I am back once again – where shelter finds its shade,
Light grey splashes – with solar flashes – behold the canvas on parade!
The depth of the greenery – highlighting the scenery – painting shape and form,
Songbirds in symphony – a natural epiphany – a spirit safe and warm!

Catching the chance – to watch the Butterflies dance – in and out of the light,
The canopy yields – out in the fields – illuminating strands burning bright!
A Buzzard swings – like many splendored things – carving circles in the sky,
Other venturing birds – inspiring words – in their multitude as they pass on by!

Outlines come to pass – in the Yonderland grass – where Glentaowen draws the lines,
I glide on the ride on – ever-decreasing and relied on – learning the magical signs!
Red-Tailed Bees – exploring buttercup seas – gathering pollen in the midday Sun,
Glentaowen builds a fire – the flickering desire – there’s outdoor housework to be done!

Late lunch comes to call – as the motor starts to stall – retiring to the comfortable chairs,
Sharing in the news – the collective sense of views – the relevant here’s and there’s!
Reminiscence shares its theme – the sharing of a dream – casting out further in time,
The learning of the ropes – the sentimental hopes – a vision in its prime!

A replenishment of fuel – for our precious jewel – up and running as good as new,
With a constant left-hand turn – I slowly live and learn – a useful job that I can do!
While I follow the lines and dots – the rain it falls in random spots – few and far between,
With stage one completed – a contentment greeted – with the art of man and machine!

With a wave of selection – invited in a new direction – contours lead from post to post,
Left to my thoughts – a meditation of sorts – leaving my mind to wander the most!
Still the fire it burns – as the tidying yearns – and all going up in a trail of smoke,
Slowly and drifting – and somehow uplifting – a connection with the ancient folk!

A lap of honour is begun – when all is said and done – and the final touches put to rights,
In the Hornbeam shade – the last knockings are made – so the script of history writes!
With completion comes withdrawal – as the raindrops fall – sharing the edge of a shower,
Returning to its nook – to cool by the book – resting by the late afternoon hour!

The Long-Tailed Tits – sing their greatest hits – from the top of the dying Almond Tree,
Sadly passing to nature’s whims – life confined to its lowest limbs – nothing much to see!
Showers come and go – with a variable flow – forcing us briefly to retire to the shed,
Before moving on – so soon its gone – with drips from the trees they fall instead!

The Dogwood shamed – and smartly tamed – clearing a path to its former glory,
The overgrowth of Spring – a powerful thing – telling the tale of nature’s story!
There’s a collective unity – of the insect community – as they seek out their personal vice,
Visiting plants and trees – to infinite degrees – which I have to say is nice!

The Greengage is covered – in fruit it is smothered – a young crop like never before,
The Plum and the Pear – find their place with care – filling out the score!
The truth of the cherry – its not looking merry – sadly struggling for light,
While the Yew is strong – it can’t be long – before the plan to shape it right!

The wheat bed is shooting – and putting on rooting – a living of the seasonal way,
The circle holds a glow – with a green soft flow – befitting of a Beltane day!
Silver Birch they sway – in the buffeting winds of the day – with an opening for the sun,
Like the finest glass – you can feel the class – and look at what nature has done!

A dark Squirrel swings – as he jumps and clings – moving away from the eye,
A tiny Moth of white – triangular in sight – with gold chains of office in a zigzag lie!
I forgot the dark brown Butterfly – with white dots to flutter by – warming by my feet,
Fully still upon a stone – wings spread wide and all alone – a spectacular natural treat!

oOo