Keith Bickerstaffe Poet Verse

Coniston

Swaths of purple ripple, breeze blown,
down the hillsides to the water's edge
as the early morning sunlight splatters
her surface with scattered diamonds.
Majestic, as old as the granite outcrops
surrounding her, she shimmers,
'til the weather takes a downturn. 
Afternoon thunder and heavy gusts 
whip her to a frenzy, as the mountain
goats and hikers hurry to take shelter,
her complexion now grim and forbidding.
The storms disintegrate, the evening sky
turns red and gold, and peace resumes
its reign. This princess, both petulant and calm,
assumes a sheen like polished glass,
a stillness, a silence, an absolute darkness,
just waiting for sunrise to sparkle again.

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Kathryn Collins January 19, 2013 at 8:13 AM Keith, Nature can turn on a dime, like life. I felt in my gut this picture you draw. The anticipation of what cannot be controlled. And then the sun comes out and I'm happy to see you there. Hop[e everything is okay. beautiful. love, Kathy

Elizabeth Wesley January 13, 2013 at 8:19 AM I had to go back a few to find your name to get here. It's almost as though you wrote this for me. My walks in the spring take me over carpets of purple and through the woods there is a sparkle of dew diamonds glinting in the sun. As usual, your descriptions are exquisite! Love, Lizzie

Sharon Smith January 12, 2013 at 9:10 AM This takes me back to my childhood. We spent many a summer in a caravan on the shore of Coniston, all eight of us! Think you've just inspired me to write a poem about our neighbour there. A little squirrel who'd knock on our door for some bread and butter!

Ilene Bauer January 12, 2013 at 7:55 AM this is just gorgeous, keith! having once gotten caught in such an unexpected storm while hiking, i must say you've described it perfectly! i love the descriptions of the lake and its stillness both before and after the storm.