This is a true story of the sand martins’ plight on their annual return to the Norfolk coast to nest and lay eggs after a strenuous flight. Is human comfort more valuable than the right of birds endangered by nets and posts? This is a true story of the sand martins’ plight. Erosion threatens a […]
Tag: Meeting the Bar
Early Spring Landscape
We walk into a landscape where flowers light up verges, they peep between the hedge gaps, adorn churchyards and copses. Where flowers light up verges, the earth is not just greenscape, throughout churchyards and copses a spring colourwash escapes. The earth is not just greenscape, it glows with yellow urges; the spring colourwash escapes and […]
The Clock of Tides and Stars (revised)
I smile at the clockwork birds ploughing sand, their black legs whirring, wound like clocks by the pull of Earth, a splash of spangled sanderlings. Ploughing sand, their black legs whirring, steered here by a cosmic force, a splash of spangled sanderlings followed the ancient paths of stars. Steered here by a cosmic force from […]
The Clock of Tides and Stars
I smile at the clockwork birds ploughing sand, their black legs whirring, a splash of spangled sanderlings with a wintry breeze beneath their wings. Ploughing sand, their black legs whirring, steered here by a cosmic force, with a wintry breeze beneath their wings, they followed ancient paths of stars. Steered here by a cosmic force […]
Rubaiyat of Light
The moon’s a balloon that expands with night and bursts with stars and constellations bright, reminding late night lovers of the dawn whose fingers shatter dreams with early light. In the amber glow of a winter morn, when doors are locked and curtains are still drawn, early risers leave the warmth of their sheets to […]
Woken by Birdsong
This morning I was woken by the sound of birdsong, a faint and distant tiny tin whistle of a song, as I lay in the cosy comfort of my warm bed and contemplated getting up and whistling along. Pulling a woolly sweater over my tousled head, I stepped outside, where a two-toned light began to […]
Sonnet to a Poet’s Hands
The young man’s hands were slender, quick and strong, composing sonnets to his unknown muse, creating worlds in drama and in song to challenge the emotions and amuse. The busy writer’s hands were stained with ink and words. His skin was cracked and raw with rhyme. The scratching of the pen spurred him to think […]
