A Stone to Rest a Jay!
Grey clouding is the rolling morn – that greets my welcome gaze,
All but silent save the birdsong – as I tread the well-worn maze!
Blushing red the Dogwood leaves – slowly turning on the brink,
The Silver Birch leaves black be-spotted – reaching for a drink!
Here and there – the leaves pale to yellow – showing off their veins,
Individuals kissed with the will of sleep – a swansong before the rains!
The Rowan Trees are touched by Autumn – slowly rusting to the touch,
Painted leaves that curl with age – for the ornamental all too much!
A smiling glance with a brief companion – A stone to rest a Jay,
A waving flash of shimmery blue – he’s off and on his way!
A silent buzzard circles in the North – stretching out its wings,
With the careful clearing of the clouds and the sunshine that it brings!
Another pair so way up high – arriving with a long distance call,
Carving circles out of motion – with a third to give their all!
As we pause for the cause and break our fast – a blaze of glory from the Sun,
The ramshackle long tails dive-bomb the Dogwood – one for all and all for one!
Return of the Buzzards now in the west and flying oh so low,
Performing a ritual they make their manoeuvres – going with the flow!
Touching then circling and on for return – a mirroring of flight,
A partnership dance – a blessing in action – beholding such a sight!
Enter the scene the young interloper – it seems it’s time to play,
A lesson in teaching is a lesson in learning and its happening today!
Winding in circles in different directions they sail out to the west,
The perfect performance wrapped in a nutshell – we are the time honoured guest!
The Dragons and the Damsels fly – in a brand new set of clothes,
Blending in with a second skin – as the turning season knows!
With the shading of the approaching clouds – the breeze becomes a blow,
The Hornet casually does his rounds – the wind begins to grow!
I practice my learning as I whistle – to an audience of sheep,
The Crows they chunter in a crisscross and time it starts to creep!
The young Elders get the taste for water – a gathering of rain,
The Manic flitting little white Butterfly – passes my view once again!
One last inspection of life in its order – a tidy shed is a tidy mind,
Open the gates to a silent wonder and leave yourself behind!
The daily ensemble packed in a backpack – the Keys they find their home,
I step out of an entrance scanning my landscape – wherever I should roam!
Off to the left there’s a Hare in a scrape and he’s giving me the eye,
Waiting for the crop to grow all about him – I smile and walk on by!
Bindweed berries red and yellow – interwoven along my road,
Strung out along the hedgerow in runs and clumps – with a force of overload!