Into The Great Wide Open!

Into the great wide open – the winter wind with its bites and chills
It brings a welling teardrop to the eye – as it rolls down from the hills
With random smatters – the snowflakes flurry – shooting on the breeze
Before the depth of the winter Sun – picks its way through naked trees

With a welcome called of the distant Buzzard – I move on through the gate
All is quiet aside the clamouring Crows – I greet the ending of my wait
The milky sunlight bathes the budding Trees – as I walk the circle round
Mr Mole in his rush – has left his calling card – on the semi-frozen ground

The work mates gather – to push back the boundaries – for planting up the Trees
Posts are pondered while posts are painted – a blend that no-one sees
On the strike of our timing at mid-afternoon – the work detail is complete
Commitment calls the voice of Little Raven – with an exit quite discrete

With a company gathered that is now all of my own – I visit the Bardic Chair
The watcher – the seer – the lost in thought – taking in the winter air
A Pheasant patrols the climbing hill – behind the Willow in the east
Pods of Crows in flight – gossip the daily news – in a brief fine spray of sleet

With the coming of an early dusk – a Barn Owl came suddenly into view
I watched as it dipped into the far corner of the field – from the entrance path anew
Following the hedgerow and heading toward me – it grounded on the rise
With a study of the landscape it took to the air – with no wording of a lie

Sheltered from the wind and below the hedge-line – still it came my way
Frozen in awe – admiring the white and gold of its plumage – the making of my day
From three feet above me it looked me in the eye – as it casually passed on by
The most beautiful moment to keep as a memory – and left me on a high

Fixed with a smile I tidied and readied my back pack – a Black Bird watched me leave
Closing the gateway – I followed the pathway – making my way upon its weave
With the sunset burning like a fire – below the cloud at the top of the hills
Pied Wagtails danced the muddy puddles in the fields and Black Birds sang their shrills

oOo