Out of the Frost!
Out of the frost the Sun comes calling – and we snake our way over the bridge,
With its murky waters all of a swirl – past the gathering treeline – rising up the ridge!
The peaceful voice of nature it sings on the breeze – with its panoramic view,
The green of the season is subtly muted – as the bulbs are peeking through!
Passing the time with the hound and its master – the gateway comes to rest,
Pied Wagtails dance and play kiss and chase – with the hedge and verge caressed!
The Buzzard glides a distance topping the hill – in circles full and slow,
There’s the hint of a Crow and it’s on the go – with a life we briefly know!
Climbing with the hill and admiring the trees – the rise becomes a crown,
Taking in the memories of the past and the future – and the fall it leads us down!
Weaving the chicane up to the end of the fence – where the gate has been re-hung,
Adoring a gaze up the field to Deer wood – no sooner Robin’s song is sung!
A Pheasant crash lands away in the corner – like a flying multi coloured fridge,
A panic re-entry from over the hedge – with a random journey to abridge!
Mrs Blackbird takes her watch from high in the branches – taking in the scene,
Breathing in the moment we return to our trail – where the Magpie sits to preen!
We arrive at the crossroads where they thresh at the hedge – as we pass he moves away,
Changing his angle of attack with a short back and sides – we dissolve in to our day!
Round the bend we pass by an old school friend – and share an early springtime smile,
Down the cracked and badly patched up road – to the bench and rest a while!
The Wood Pigeons and the Crows gather on the steaming pile – behind and to our side,
The pond to our backs sits still in silence – next to the road and its divide!
The Robins spar and parry around the reflective puddle – as they spill across the road,
Wood Pigeons amass at the top of the tree before us – where the branches bud their load!
Onward in debate and the colour of windows – and down to the bend in the lane,
Partridges scramble to and fro in the Teasels – the path to there and back again!
An army of Wood Pigeons rise in their multitude – a crowd against the grey,
An impressive collection moving motion in unison – and a pair of Magpies lead the way!
Along past the nesting of last year’s Kites – where there’s nothing to be said,
Over the stile around the muddy puddles – toward the dredging piles ahead!
Skirting round the contours of the corner bowl – where the river takes a bend,
We pick our pathway to the water’s edge – with our journey at its end!
The rapids stipple in its waves of ripple – gently lapping at the banks,
The plates of swell they meander well – in a weave of giving thanks!
A pair of Mallards race at lady Buzzards chase – amidst the form of trees they run,
Over the river and far from sight – where the deep purple cloud it frames the Sun!
The melody of consciousness chimes with the rapids – in a restful gentle grace,
The breezes catch the corners of this welcome bowl – as they brush the hand and face!
With the sinking of the Sun the air it chills – with the bank in shadow digits nip,
We savour the moment and count our blessings – before our homeward bounded trip!