These gentle beams
which bathe my skin
touched the cold rock of the moon
moments before they touched me.
I sit in wonder
intimately connected
to the universe.
Category: Nature
Wu Wei
The evening light fades
without effort
Yet I must practice daily
doing
without doing.
Long tailed tits
I hear them before
I see them.
Balls of energy
twitter,
flitter,
and suddenly
the tree is full
of a tumble
of long tailed tits.
January awakening
Today’s dawn chorus starts with a tawny owl.
Soft hooting drifts through the
7am darkness.
The shrillness of my alarm clock
is so ugly by comparison.
Goldcrest
Glimpse of movement
overhead, a tiny bird almost
lost among branches
drops downwards,
capped fire-streak searching
restlessly for insects
expertly probing the bark then
stopping briefly to show
the world its beauty.
New for 2019, I’ve decided to start sharing my art here along with my poems. I paint wildlife (mainly birds) on silk. I’ve set myself the challenge to write a poem to go with each of my paintings, starting with this goldcrest that I painted last year. I thought I’d try an acrostic poem, I’ve not written one of those since I was at school 30 years ago! Hope you enjoy it & wishing you all the best for 2019.
Murmuration
Thousands upon thousands of starlings
dance against a pink sunset.
A parallel flock of humans
stand and marvel.
River of wings
It starts with a drip, a drop, a splash
as a handful of starlings zoom past my window,
causing me to glance up from the computer screen.
I get back to work, but then
the trickle becomes a stream
and holds me, mesmerized.
Pulses, waves of flickering, fluttering birds,
hundreds, then thousands.
I cannot help but marvel,
following them with my eyes as they streak past,
just one tributary of a giant river of wings,
following them with my mind
to the nearby reedbeds
where they will join, and dance.
Thousands upon thousands coordinated
in breathtaking choreography
until on some secret signal
they descend to the reeds to roost.
Outside my window the river slows to a trickle
For a while, small flocks of stragglers whizz by
just drips and drops as darkness falls.
Sleep tight, little birds.
I am breathing in the cold night air
as goose calls drift up from the estuary.
We share the same moonlight.
The autumn equinox approaches
Sometimes, I wish
I could just fly south
with the birds.
I really should be working
The sun streams onto my desk
distracting me with an open invitation.
I wander outside into the crisp
freshness of September
(I really should be working)
air cool, sun warm,
what a delicious combination.
I stroll, and admire the flowers.
This year’s robins practice their trills
and chase each other around the garden
(I should be working, really)
Dewy cobwebs sparkle.
The Chinese lanterns glow
like orange setting suns.
(Should I really be working?)
I have all the time in the world
to work,
long years of it left,
but this one moment of early autumn,
this particular combination of weather
and flowers and birdsong
will never happen again in
exactly the same way.
So I savour it.
Life in the Fresh Air 