The Spiral of Ravens!

Behold the beauty of a new spring – sun drenched morning,
As a Buzzard circles – alone and silent above the hills!
The ditches shading – defiant snow clumps – along the bottoms of the hedgerows,
While the manic Songbirds tweet their twitter – with their chorus of layered trills!

Partridges patter nervously – up the climbing rise of a field siding,
While a random Rabbit rambles – as I near the rumble of the stream!
The Wood Pigeons winging their indiscriminate wanderings,
Intermingled journeys – with small groups of Crows – a constant running theme!

With the movement of crescendo – homely Wood Pigeons scatter,
Leaving in the moment – the direction of facing – out into the gone!
I partake of a warm contented smile – as the sun it calmly strokes my skin,
Breathing in the essence of nature’s flow – where the breath goes on and on!

The Grove it shimmers in golden highlights – the Trees with their forming veil of buds,
The turning of the seasons rolling with the sun-wheel – warming winter’s lingering chill!
Robin leads the choir in symphonic serenade – like a natural anthem in the round,
The meaning is different for each individual – as it’s sung with pride and free of will!

A calming pool draped – in a hive of activity – leading the spirit to the Bardic Chair,
Soaking up the vision – a painting to the soundtrack – as the natural world goes on by!
Blackbirds shuffle through the death of leaves – while the Doves they do their deeds,
The Crows they party in fits and starts – weaving the threads of pathways as they fly!

The Bulrushes begin to burst around next door’s pond – to my southern point of view,
The Stones they capture the rays of the Sun – standing on their carpeted bed of green!
Picking out the white of the quills of Silver Birch – standing at the circles edge,
Next to the rise and fall of the bank and ditch – where the subtle contours set the scene!

Company gathers with the call of the Raven – washing like nectar across the vale,
The peace of the moment – standing in the standstill – bathing in the glory of the Sun!
Colours come alive in invisible corners – unassuming Primroses prepare their flurries,
With some they catch the Sun – ahead of the game and their flowers come undone!

Glentaowen goes with tradition and does his thing with the wheat bed,
Carefully tended as mention recalls – an echo of a telling before!
A pair of free-wheeling Buzzards – warming a welcome to the west,
Before I’m lost in the moment – to gather up images – with the freedom to explore!

I step out of the gateway honouring commitments – to complete the trail of remembering,
Guiding the pathway that leads to the Grove – a courtesy enabled for future’s flow!
On returning I settle counting the beats of my heart – as we mingle a warmly greeting,
We share in a heartfelt tale – of personal musings – where the words are in the know!

Preparation panders with its finishing touches – the incense it climbs through the air,
Wafting natural curls for the boys and girls – and for those spirits present here this day!
An original artefact it sounds with a gong – stepping in time with the melody,
Following the footsteps that define the life of our history – as we pass along the way!

We rest at our ease – with the Silver Birch Trees – where the elements conduct the pace,
The Ancestors are remembered as we come together – with the raising of a toast!
Within and without we share in the energy – as we firmly feel our grounding,
We look to the sky – with the Sun so high – while honouring the Earth our host!

We celebrate the balance of day and nightfall – planting the seed and a seed for the self,
Witness to the birth of the cycle of growth – as we step into the light!
After sowing the Wheat bed – there’s the fire in ashes – with a dusting of the Earth,
There’s a kiss of life – with the drink of life – as the sun shines burning bright!

We count our blessings and share our thankyou’s – before we come to closing’s ending,
Breathing in reflection – we fill of our senses – as we make a slow withdraw!
An octuplet – conspiracy of Ravens gather – for a spiral spectacle above the Grove,
A first in revolving – along our sun-wheel evolving – and who could ask for more!

Those with the need – they leave as agreed and the Grove is restored to its natural glory,
The Lanterns lick with candle’s flicker – mid-afternoon revels in the warmth of the Sun!
With images recaptured in the change of the light – Robin calls in on conversation,
We string together words – as we watch of all the birds – until our day is almost done!

At the closing of the gate – with the timings of fate – a flash of white come’s calling,
Low over the Grove – from the hidings of the shade – we catch the Barn Owl on parade!
Weaving in and out of view – is there one or two – defying the eye’s times and places,
Before the dusk comes falling – we retire – picking up the pathway that’s future made!

oOo