on flight

as if effortless
common gulls follow ferry
taunting of bipeds


CLP 13/10/2022

on life

sparrow hawk attack
cacophony of squealing
rookery alerted


n.b. The most remarkable sight of a sparrow hawk trying to drag a jackdaw to a plucking post. The prey nearly the same size as the hawk, makes things awkward, unbalancing the flight and managing to drop to the ground in the pub garden. The sparrow hawk does not tarry, seen off noisily by the other corvids raised from the surrounding trees by the alarm.

CLP 01/09/2022

on time

left on open grass
laid without ceremony
better things to do?


n.b. To the human eye these looked white, to the camera this beautiful blue.

CLP 18/07/2022

on time

traffic accident
engine off, birdsong, fresh air
good to be alive


CLP 18/07/2022

Swifts 2022

I heard your squealing
delighted to see you back
over our rooftops


n.b. Later and fewer this year. Heard and seen 14/05/2022z

CLP 15/05/2022

on light

it's nearly midnight
there is too much of it now
they sing all night long


n.b. Not that I’m objecting to birdsong.

CLP 14/05/2022

Why getting up and stepping out is better than drawing the blinds and giving up

last owl
first blackbird
ruffled wren
crow drifts from stricken oak
gull sets down by upturned bin
starlings strung out overhead
puffed up pigeon pursuing hen
sparrows cluster
blue tit picking cherry blossom
woodpecker working through the park
mallard mutters while wandering past
robin sings to robin across the path
oh! happiness of goldfinches


n.b. NaPoWriMo 2022 Day Thirteen: living with hope in your heart.

CLP 13/04/2022

August iv

sharp red berries

spilled from urgent beaks

mashed underfoot

sweet yellow paste

tentative young wasp


CLP 11/08/2021

Time #1

when it’s been really hot

like today, close to the mid-point of June

eventually the blue begins to thin

as if mixed with a few drops of white spirit


the air moves a little faster

adding cool to shade

under the solitary oak

crowning the rise


arrhythmic sounds of a distant road backwash

strangely vigorous mid-afternoon songs of blackbirds

who call as if expecting rain

but it won’t, not yet


there is no accumulation of clouds

over the Blackdown Hills

just the wind seasoned by a dash of brine

chilled through months of swirling winter tides


provoked, other birds respond, goldfinches

keening for respite from potential drought

trying to sweet -talk moisture from the sky

to fill the hard-set hoof prints and tyre-track hollows


to soften the soil and freshen pasture

to fill the brook now wearing a skin

that barely covers its old bones

its smoothed stones lie dry, matted green


heading west into the breeze

every feather extended to the full

a buzzard floats along the hedge

then shifts its path toward the wood


I sit against the towering trunk

spine aligned to its hard rutted bark

listen to the plaintive songs

wonder at how fast my sixty years have gone

On Water iii

great crested grebes dance

like that Sunday afternoon

when our hearts dove-tailed


n.b. Somewhat hidden by the willow branches, but they are there…promise.

CLP 12/04/2021