The Martins gather over Foxburrows barns,

Soaring, diving. A final rendezvous before their flight

To pastures new.

Not for them the berry-laden bushes,

The crab, the mast, the acorn and the lengthening night,

The morning dew.

Once verdant grassland ‘neath my feet, lies brown.

Seeds are dormant, sleeping, waiting when the time is right,

For life anew.

Speckled wood and Comma, dance in dappled shade

Of cooling sunny days. Work done, their larvae out of sight.

A Darter too

It’s avid young lie deep in Lambourne Well

In ambush. Several years will pass before their nuptial flight.

A May calf due -

The Highland cattle graze content, while from afar

Above the yellowing trees, the tower of All Saints, bright,

In golden hue.

The birds are mute ‘cept Yaffle, Jay and Goose, Children play

Voices drowned, by drone of local aircraft props, and microlight.

An Autumn view.                            

  28 September 2002.