On fields of decapitated barley, the hollow stubble full with last night’s rain, huge straw reels stand askew; great golden wheels left out to dry in the Sun, emitting a musty warmth, while fungi forms in dewy soil on which the geese reconvene to recommence their wintery discourse.

These large birds’ clacking beaks break into the day with husky talk in croaked, dawn-crack voices; the gabbling gaggle precedes the early calls of crows, blackbird and songs of rising larks, to signal our brief summer’s passing.

CLP 21/07/2020

Crossing Over

Thirty two days now I’ve been out walking

What have I found and what have I seen?

A spotted catfish curled up on the shore

A hedgehog sent to sleep in the road

A wide-eyed bird lying on the verge, so small I hid it in my hand

A piece of fibre-glass hull, jetsam from a storm spat dinghy

A side-swiped bumble bee, membranous wings frozen open on the lane

And I’ve carried a slow-crawling young toad across the street

So, like all the others, it made it to the other side


n.b. Day 19 prompt collect a “walking archive.”

Christopher Perry

19th April, 2020