And the Wood Pigeons remain in the Fields!
I jump into my wake of morning – pealing from its skin of fog,
With a creamy white Sun to guide my vision – worthy of my log!
Wood Pigeons scour the bare lay fields – the surrounding of my vale,
Full to bursting seams – of my horizons – a picture set to scale!
The Blackbirds line define the pathway – below the calling of the Crows,
The peace is tangible – touching the senses – crossing the road where the water flows!
The bob of the Rabbits running the hedgerows – for the seeking of their holes,
Where the field forms a constant tide – where the hills dilute their rolls!
The shading of shadows – held in a hollow – awaiting the rays of the Sun,
In pin-pricks we gain of the spotlights – where the rising has begun!
The Sun climbs over the Willow Tree in the east – the shade has come to pass,
The September frenzy of Crane-fly’s clamber – over the dew on the tips of the grass!
White Butterflies wander a woven flutter by – in random circles to and fro,
The Willow Warbler makes his feelings known – a singer for a show!
First drumming up a nearby entrance – a pair of Wood Peckers on the wing,
Close enough to pick out the colours – in the harmony they sing!
Upon the strike of Noon a single Buzzard calls – from high above the wisps of cloud,
Before sweeping in the North to ride the skies – it’s enough to make you proud!
The Dragonflies they flit and seek out attention – after they sit and dry their wings,
The bugs and the Bees they go with their instinct – with the chorus of frequency it brings!
With the chirruping – whistling and clicking of Birds – the Hawthorns team with life,
Swathes of raids – duals and gossip mongers – where the berry growth is rife!
The Kestral appears in the west as he hovers – sweeping his network as he goes,
His concentration broken as he is chased and bothered – by an unruly bunch of Crows!
A gathering of Peacock Butterflies dance their moves – before they settle in the Sun,
The Red Admirals feed – on the abundance of Ivy flowers – there’s business to be done!
The Dogwoods are twitching with a gang raid of tweeting – in a multitude of calls,
In formation diving one by one – they load the branches – like the raging of waterfalls!
It’s time for the closing of the wonky window – the note-book finds its sheath,
The tools are gathered and stood to attention – a final moment with belief!
Stepping forth into the sanctuary corner – and out into the nature that it shields,
Reassurance it resides in a whisper – And the Wood Pigeons remain in the fields!