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Margaret Ann Waddicor 19th May 2011.

The hornbeams turn green
a grey green so slowly
where others they sprout in a rush with a shout
the oaks come out first
if the ash makes the dash for the post
then we're in for a thirst
and a splash

oh robin displaying your bright red breast
your song like a bubbling brook
not for joy but a ploy to keep others at bay
you're as bold as a jay any day
there high up sits crow
he is older you know
he's lording it way in the sky
chasing magpies away
from his birch
the place that's each morning his perch

the thrushes, no fieldfares in flocks
make a fuss when flying
they chat in the sky
making nests in the joints of the tree
the firecrests their tinker bell tinkling
make their nest at the end of a branch
weighing as much as a postage stamp
olive in colour a crest of yellow
red streaked by chance

loud as the wren in the hedge
not much bigger than he is himself
piercing a sound that startles one
out of a trance
then Sunsoot, in Danish, pipes up
fills the air with his melancholy song
and we stop what we're doing to hear

so moved
even shedding a tear
the song thrush takes over
repeats of three
and the nightingale
seals the day for me

All nature rejoices
in so many voices you see.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Last few words: 
Just looking out this morning at the view again! :) Ann
Editing stage: 


All the little things that tinkle in my ear
or fill the landscape with colours and perfumes,
entertain my mind as always.

Its just pretty stuff, not potent exactly,
but what came into my head then.

Thank you dear Rosie Princess. Love Ann.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

author comment

Thank you Ian, yes you know them, being an Englishman.
We have many birds around our houses, don't we?
At least when I was little we did, so that we could watch them,
and my father and mother adored the birds teaching us about them
from when my sister and I were tiny.

Yes the typo, I find my fingers sometimes don't keep up with my mind!

Today I saw a photo competition displayed,
young people's, there was one Robin,
wet and dishevelled that was very well taken.
He is one of my favourites I know where they live,
wherever I go.

Love to you Ann.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

author comment
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