A hillside of walkers gathering slow
blend with the gold medal fields all aglow.
Kites finding freedom, flutter and flow
as looping Red Kites begin to swoop low.
Families with picnics bask in the sun
whilst ice-cream smeared children playfully run.
Dogs chasing frisbees bark at the fun
as strolling events are just about done.
Rooks search for scraps on the Downs chalky chest.
Footballs pace quicker as if on a quest.
Hypnotic gliders hover like rest,
drifting away, along with my stress.
Serenity cycles. Smiles are on tour.
The wonder of nature is what we’re there for.
The café embraces a coach trip or more.
Benches remember all those gone before.
I view all the tissue-like clouds move along
whilst hearing the skylark sing beautiful song.
The smell of contentment is fragrant and strong.
Our Dunstable Downs is where I belong.
Are you a Poet or tactician,
or “A Rose By Any Other Name…”
Are your words stained with patina,
some would scrub and some would blame
Is your Kingly verse too rough for some,
finding safety in their books
Is your verse uncut with edges sharp
—all Princes in their rooks
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)
Are you a Poet or tactician,
or “A Rose By Any Other Name…”
Are your words stained with patina,
some would scrub and some would blame
Is your Kingly ode too rough for some,
finding safety in their books
Is your verse uncut with edges sharp,
—all Princes in their rooks
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)
In brooding dusk they gather from the East
Arrive in twos and threes upon the trees.
Autumn beeches, now devoid of leaves,
Begin to darken as the branches heave
And teem with animated rooks.
And jackdaws too, all jockeying for space,
Amid this vibrant, raucous, corvid mass,
Jostling, shifting, squabbling for pride of place,
To raise their voices, demand attention
Speaking freely in this parliament.
When sunset beckons they slip the air
In charcoal squadrons to the field below
Where, in serried ranks along each furrow,
They bow and scrape in search of meagre fare
For supper and the long dark night.
The leader signals, adjourns the meeting –
Vast clouds arise, a thousand wings beating,
Driven as a single being, Westward
To their high swaying roost – murmur greeting,
Huddle together against the cold.
hears the rooks cawing
as he strolls through the grave yard - -
sees her watching him
* for Andrea's (and Nikko's) contest
The Woman in Black is a book and a film - a big buck version is currently being filmed, I've heard
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