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Poem

Skulking between the thinning clumps 
Of tattered sedge
A balding coot despondently calls,
Scratching Blackbirds scutter deeply 
Into a Hawthorn hedge;
Whilst, creeping stealthily,
Gathering darkness onwardly crawls.

The blackened Moorhen washes the clinging
Soot from his feathered form,
Rising above the mirrored pond in awkward 
flight.
Gathering clouds mumble softly of an 
Impending storm,
When, silently menacing, inwards marches 
The approaching night.

Listening intently, between murmurs upon
A breeze,
I  check my step and briefly pause -
To catch a low sigh whispered from among
The sullen trees...
A last desperate plead of their lost cause.

For now billowing cumulonimbus sags 
And begs to stall,
As, slowly homeward bound, I gather 
About me to hastily make;
Where, circling high in rushing element,
The ragged Buzzard begins to fall...

Upon Heavens gathered Furies -
That so conspire to thunderously break!

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