A chattering bird sings in the wild thistle bed,
seeking seeds in each white, downy head.
Strong beaked and bright eyed, this little bird,
that across the red fuschias I've often heard,
enjoys a feast, as it pulls and heaves,
at the spiky plants with razor sharp leaves.
Harvesting the bounty of autumnal earth,
filling its belly, swelling its girth,
laying down stores for winter's dearth.
Skeleton twigs on which rose hips of the brightest reds
hang as jewel drops amongst spider’s threads.
Skeleton twigs standing over crushed berries scattered on the sodden ground.
Skeleton twigs rising above straggly nettles bringing remembrance of summer’s blossom,
of crimson pink petals.
Skeleton twigs celebrating summer’s past and winter’s present in the seasons round.
Hey-up! And speed the plough
We’ll harvest now
The sun is bright, the air is calm
And we can bring the harvest home.
There’s grain enough for bread and beer,
There’s fruit enough, to eat, for wine, to cheer
Our long dark Winter night,
When sun and swallow have gone a’ flight.
Hey-up! There’s time to play
When old stone barns are full of hay.
We’ll work by light of harvest moon
And sing our ‘Summers bounty’ tune.
When the light is held in a plain
Cloudless sky of grey/blue fog,
The trees in dark contrast
Give up their green mane
And stand solid.
For they will provide the log,
Which will provide the light,
‘Till Winters passed.
Grey, Autumnal mist
Softens the hues of the fallen leaves.
They quickly release
Their entertaining colours.
And return to their brown earthly weaves
That will nourish next Summer’s flowers.
Autumnal peach, shades to bleached blue,
With a band of butter yellow, passing through.
Dawn, with white mist coursing the river
And silent crows crowd the steeple tower.
Melodious blue tit awakens the robin,
Then crow croaks a return to quicken the twittering.
Lo! The sun lights the weather cock,
Bright on the steeple,
And the start of the day
Is greeted by a chorus of trills,
While golden rays repaint the hills
And the energy of the increasing sun
Darkens the blue, warms the towers stone,
Confirming the truth that night dreams are done.
Page last updated: 29th Nov 2017