A blackbird, newly fledged,
zooms like a badly thrown pom pom across the lawn.
By some miracle it lands safely on a branch,
first flight complete.
Tag: nature writing
Iris
Today I knelt on cold concrete, bowed my head,
breathed the perfume of the first spring iris
as if I was praying.
This moment
At the end of the garden
sipping beer,
the bench in early evening sun
still warm.
I read a new book,
Chinese mountain poetry,
a subject about which
I know little.
Centuries apart,
it seems we write
about the same things.
Then a sparrow chirps
in the hedge,
pulls me fully
into the present moment.
Always, and only,
this moment.
Cormorants
Cormorants fish
in the softness
of morning.
Unusually, I went for a stroll before work and was rewarded by this view and this poem.
Rough edges
My garden,
like much of my life,
a little scruffy,
a little rough around the edges,
beautiful to my eyes
but perhaps not everyone’s
cup of tea.
Today I watched
a queen red-tailed bumblebee
dusted in golden pollen
feasting on a dandelion,
mother of next summer’s bees
sustained by my laziness,
my dislike of weeding.
Perfection may ensnare us
but it is a sterile thing,
there is treasure
to be found
in the wild,
in the untamed,
at the rough edges of life.
Inspiration
‘I want to write a poem’
never works for me.
I have to wait.
I have to go to the places
where inspiration lies.
Sometimes I glimpse it
quietly sleeping
in a grey sky full of rain,
or shouting for attention
through the flowers and birds.
Sometimes I glimpse it
within myself
and I have to be quiet enough to hear it.
A blog post from a writer I admire
sparks a train of thought,
or I glimpse an old quote in
a book, inspiration travelling
across time and space.
Or I walk.
Usually I just walk,
and the world nudges me
into attention.
Mull of Galloway
Savouring the end of summer
among the last blooms of
thrift and sea campion,
the cries of unseen kittiwakes,
clouds of swallows and martins
and the arrow-straight splashing dives of gannets.
It’s that time of year when every bit of warm sunshine is savoured. The air is cooler now, the wind is blowing from the north, but out of the wind the sun is still hot. We sat in the sun on the Mull of Galloway, sharing the end of summer with the birds. Soon they will be leaving, the kittiwakes out to sea, the swallows, house martins and gannets heading south for warmer climes. A day to remember, sunshine,warmth and memories to light us through the winter darkness ahead.
Life in the Fresh Air 