My poem for the sixth day of Paul Brookes’ challenge, in partnership with The Wildlife Trusts. If you have a poem about birdsong, send it to Paul here.
Summer morning
pale gold air
slants through the shutters
a boat slipping from sea to sky
and back
buoyed on waves of song
sifting through leaf-fronds
swaying tree-kelp
carrying me from dreams
into the waking.
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So lovely and peaceful. It’s how I felt while walking yesterday morning. ๐
(My musings with the randoms words is up.)
Thank you ๐ It wasn’t actually as bright as I painted it this morning. A bit dull in fact though it’s sunny now.
I’ll post my random words poem then and read yours ๐
A little imagination never hurts. It’s really beautiful again here this morning, though I didn’t take my walk.
Our walks around the meadows are getting more difficult. The grass is taller than I am now, and after the storm, it bends over the path around the edges so we can hardly see it.
Is this the first time that’s happened?
No, it’s the grass type. Fescue. Once the spring flowers are over, the fescue really gets going. The meadows are a patchwork of different types of vegetation, and the fescue doesn’t cover all of it, but it grows so tall you have to wade through it to find the places without. The ‘paths’ are a band the width of two sweeps of the mower and it’s a running battle to keep them ‘open’. Little oak trees start so quickly, they grow almost six inches in less than a fortnight.
I guess you’ll have to get one of the farmers with a machete to clear the paths for you. ๐
Not their style. In a few weeks the whole lot will be mown anyway…and start growing again ๐
Oh–I didn’t get that it would be mowed. That solves the problem for a bit.
The meadows have to be mown if we want to preserve the wildflowers. If we let it go, it will fill up with fast-growing trees like dogwood and plum, and brambles. Not immediately, but after a few years the flowers and orchids will be crowded out and it will revert to scrubby woodland.
Oh, interesting. That explains why another friend mows her meadow periodically.
There isn’t much livestock kept around here so there’s not much demand for hay any more. A lot of land is set-aside and never cultivated, but it’s not meadow. Every five years or so a tractor cuts down the vegetation to stop the trees really taking hold. I suppose they want to keep their options open in case they ever did want to use it for cultivation.
๐
Reblogged this on The Wombwell Rainbow.
Thank you, Paul.
That’s a good awakening. (K)
Better than the alarm.
I have a robin now that is up really before dawn. He likes to sing all afternoon too.
Your robins and our blackbirds have the same habits, I think, and the same type of song. I hear ours more in the afternoon when the other birds are taking it easy, and they’re about the last to pack it in at night.
Yes, that’s exactly it.
It’s good to know that birds connect too.
Well done! Thank you for sharing ๐
My pleasure! I’m pleased you like it ๐