In the work of the world, everything is a poem;
slow petal hinges closing the drowsy flower -

Twilight medicates
the hysterical summer garden.

Laudanum of luminous blue
doping

The bumblebee mourns
among a graveyard of roses
he has loved all summer long.

His murmuring

When it rains
the sky gives
The earth does
when it shines

Earth and sky in pure love
give &

Beery-plump bees
in gold-banded, furry rugby shirts –

underarmour sleeves pulled

I stand on tortured twisted rocks
Two and a quarter miles above
The surface of the sea they were

The leaves have fallen, the trees not dead but without
Clothing. It is deep winter here, the

Small birds, Red Grouse, scurrying mammals and
Short eared owls frequent the heather moorland.

Toss your pebble in the river
Watch it ripple
And know you have moved the ocean

A summer squall is rolling in
A subtle draft, a pleasant breeze,
has turned into a broiling

white windmills riding
on low cotton wool clouds
catching the wind;
changing currents to

Pregnant

clouds hang listless

and not yet come full term.

Expectant, I wait for the

The day shook itself, sniffed the air and sprinkled sunlight on my face
I woke,washed,said grace

Autumn in summer:
Fallen leaves
yellow and shiny
like golden coins
of King Sun to us
mere

What is this feeling towards the swollen Sun -
bulging gold with the light of a whole summer,

The first true blue day of summer -

a simple song formed, whole
in my gulping heart.
Kept

Woke up to a crisp August day,
Sun was shining, birds were hungry
Time long past to feed

Hate to brag won't be doing it here
Just listing the birds I daily see.
Only to find out whether

I
Whenever sleep is required, But resisted,
The baby is bundled
And pushed

These birds choose to live in rarefied air,
Where all around them mountain peaks
Can be

She sits in a spindly lane-side tree,

Plump and delightfully pompous, 

Chest feathers

There’s too much noise
For Darwinian comfort:
As the robins bring grubs

To the bushes beneath

Garrulous choughs gather in the valley
As dawn etches rose and violet gullies
On frost-shattered

You know what I’ve always wondered.
Tree’s.
Who came up with the idea of tree’s
God

Solitude and silence
Perfect and quiet
To feel at peace
A family of one
No worried strangers

Enjoyed this summer more than ever
Nobody disturbed my peace and quiet
Could rediscover myself and

Guns loaded, silencers fitted,
Triggers pulled. This Is
The eve of slaughter. The
Ruthless

Badgers:
Once upon a time we were happy
What have we done to upset politicians?
We were simply

The male Satin Bowerbird is an artist.

All the rest went chasing bugs and worms -
while his DNA

Black and white
followed closely by red.

Bang
Another is dead.

The superior race plays

Black and white
followed closely by red.

Bang
Another is dead.

The superior race plays

The souls of badgers taken,
Thoughts removed, feelings
Disregarded. Blood flows
Under a harvest

Mistaken for gusting leaves
Swirling mice chase
Around each other
Across paths at dusk;

A fox

I heard her finger
scrape the chalk board,
jarring me from impending sleep.

Phantom

In the cold blue smouldering of autumn.
Among ruined gold leaves,
smoking berry embers

A perfect morning: getting up early
Before birds, listen to their little chat
Be one with nature,

She sits in a spindly lane-side tree,
Plump and delightfully pompous,
Chest feathers

A Pibroch of wind piping the brutal moor.
The souls of everything fled.

The depressed moor

The mist blanket
Tucked round the graves
Relents only slowly
To the wan autumn sun.

The

Burning berries machine-gun heavenly blue,
godly iris.

Firing seed, tree and water dreams
to

She whips up waves, wrests them to fury
surfs on Atlantic crests, her voice

a siren's scream ,

I am a kiss that wakes the long dead winter,
a sleepsong that rouses new heart beats.
I am air

Leaf through crisp textures
that twine and tremble
leaves that flicker dance
and tumble.

Considering where he's been
mole is quite sleek and clean.
Nose sharp, an arrow head'
his keen

I am a kiss that wakes the long dead winter,
a sleepsong that rouses new heart beats.
I am air

Hunger rides dawn to dusk
as little owl seeks prey ;
the only owl who hunts
in the heat of the

I watched a tiny spider catch
a hornet in it's web, in surprise
thought, a spider will not

Apprehension, excitement.
The rolling waves
Threaten to overwhelm us.
The plaques on walls,