feel the hedge the dunnock had slept
its lines a scribble toddlers had drawn
he nested in a pen test on scrap paper
edging fields in barbed wire branches
sleep static acrobats on frozen trapeze
**********
hidden nest… feeding
collecting food… not insects
bad summer weather
***********
*************
the human race
how many subspecies
do you know
orange sunsets
they were once all red
the status quo
housemartins... late
nesting on a window pane
swallows in the porch
dunnock feeding
on suet balls for the ****
goldfinch on niger
smooth newts... fifty plus
til the lawned was mowed
no pond for miles
facts of life
humans make them up
not natures ways
sun skipped the surface
light dancing on the waves
then came the trawlers
the sky ablaze
the sea reflecting fire
seagulls screaming
honey bees dying
mites and climate changing
stop pollution now
mountains moving
hot rocks cruising on a plate
shapes shifting
the rushing rivers
rapids... falls... always searching
returning home
clouds carry rivers
waterfalls biding time
flash flooding
nature... world's doctor
twenty-four seven... open
inundated
**************
By lane and path the English hedgerow,
In which so many wild things grow,
For centuries has crossed the land –
A world of nature, close at hand.
In Spring the blackthorn's cloaked in snow,
Its pure white blossoms first to show.
Warm breezes waft them to and fro,
Then Autumn brings the jet black sloe.
The blackbird, chaffinch, dunnock, wren,
Oft hidden from the sight of men,
All prosper in this habitat,
So suited to its purpose, that
A bountiful harvest supplies their needs,
With insects, hips, haws, sweet berries and seeds.
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