The birds in the garden today – the poem is about the garden in London.
The Passing Season
Hidden from view he hums,
deep resonant sounds of age and wisdom.
My neighbour’s steady beat on wooden stakes
marks time to his labours and his tune.
I peer into my wintered pond for life,
heavily pregnant newts glide in waiting.
Bluebells challenge crocuses for their space,
buds of blossom spring from spiky branches.
Ash tree seeds scatter in the wind,
making space for waving fronds of green.
Birds compete for feathers for their nests.
The capricious sun hides its features.
A silence falls on secret thoughts,
as winter’s drama melts away at last.
from my ‘Don’t Throw Away the Daisies Book’
Created the same kind of garden here and hopefully the newts will be around eventually.
I had been busily preparing a post and a film about ‘The Goons’ – then I realised it was more about the Telegoons and therefore the letter T – Now just whose idea was this?