On a Still Morning in January

In a nightgown of mist the garden sleeps
While Dawn yawns quietly and cold birds creep
Revealed now are the webs and well-spun plans
Of spiders profiting where they can  

Silken traps woven out of view
Now hang heavy with the dew
A world held ransom by their threads
As we lay sleeping in our beds

The alarm clock rings, a blackbird's call
And soon the mist will fret and fall
Day will chase these thoughts away
But spiders sit and spin and prey

A couple of old poems for a summery weekend...

Where Lady Summer Dwells

(A Dorset walk)

Where the ragged robin grows
And cow parsley sows
A garland of wild garlic
In the hedgerow
Down the green lane
Runs a silver stream
And in the clear wide sky
Ride dragonflies

Here’s a place I know well
It’s where lady summer dwells

Life is for living
And hearts are for giving
It’s a sweet song she sings
While she walks
Down the green lane

Old Bumble

I remember
The days
When you could fly
From wood to lea
Hedgerow
All the way

No fencing
No block paving
No endless acreage
Ploughed edge to edge
But room to dawdle
Among the foxgloves
And sunny honeysuckle...

Ah, by my furry knees
Times long gone
Lunch was at the Dog Rose
With warm lavender till tea
Then home
While long shadows overtook
The neat lawns
Cut too short for clover now

Home to snooze
A honeyed dream
Of summer days
With hedgerow
All the way