Just back from gracious Charleston, SC, where I had time to do a little writing.
Female cardinal,
mohawk and unlikely beak
deftly picks a seed.
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Long shadows flee West.
The Marsh blushes goldenly,
warming to sun’s kiss.
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Not as black as they’re painted
Serene black vultures
idly float in wide circles
contemplatively.
Smooth, effortless grace,
defying reputation
unconcernedly.
(24/02/09)
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Glandore, February, basking in Winter sunshine…
Bright, silent crescent
aloof in hibernation.
Cat-like, sun-soaking.
(16/02/09)
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I see the lapwings are back again, harbingers of Spring and new growth and longer days…
Harbingers
Lapwings bank and turn,
their trademark stop-start flight plan
and plaintive “pee-weet”,
despite the chilled air,
proof, if proof were needed, that
Spring is on the way.
Pied green-black and white,
sartorial elegance,
a rakish top-knot,
peripatetic,
exotic itinerants
following the sun.
We can’t hold them here,
welcome, feed them, watch them go
and the days lengthen.
(09/02/09)
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Yesterday was the ancient festival of Imbolc, known more recently as St. Brigid’s Day. Traditionally, it is the start of Spring, the first Day of the new year, in effect. (see the WAS site for report on our poetry/musical celebration.)Incidentally, this was published The SHOp 17, Spring 2005
Evening, St.Brigid’s Day
Water, breac-rippled,
heron glides on broad kite-wings,
sky, a rinsed-out blue.
Indian-ink trees
framing a faded blue sky.
Blackbird silhouette.
Tree-tops trembling,
quivering in the blast of
scolding blackbird hen.
Crows are gathering.
In the cold, blue evening
silence unravels.