In a Field
Twenty pheasants have
A sporting chance now winter
Has turned into Spring
Red kites hovering
Almost still as we rush past
Train-bound to London
Great Bustard?
On a chalk ploughed hill
I glimpse a giant bird. Wait…
Did I just see that?
The fish pond, brimfull
A mirror for morning light
Heron reflects there
Into London
Leafy suburbs pass
Trees home for two woodpeckers
Woodland corridor
On the Thames today
Two swans wend their way past boats
And mud larks; low tide!
Wren
I hear you singing
Through the window, you reach me
With a bright Spring song
Starlings
Two shiny green birds
Ornaments on bare branches
Winter-jewelled tree
Over flooded fields
The flock ripples out. Black boats
Fish on the dawn tide
Magpie
Wings in, arrow flight
Look at you, surfing sunlight!
Soon beached on tree branch
Seventeen goldfinch
In the magnolia tree
Fresh buds, bright faces
Before Storm Eowyn
Jackdaw alarm calls!
Above me; silent brown wings
Buzzard, storm bringer
Starlings
7.45 am
Iron clouds roll, I spot them!
A fleet of starlings
Stretched as thin as air
Starling flock returns to floods
From yesterday's rain
Heron and Little Egret flying past on walk
Overhead; look up!
Awkward neck crick, gangly legs
Birds and birdwatchers
Magpies, Crows and Jackdaws
Magpies in a tree
Six or seven, more maybe
Secret to be told
He feeds them. Walking
The lanes, Tor bound, beautiful
World waking up. Here
Garden Birds
In the willow twigs
Sweet garden song of robin
For the New Year now
All manner of small:
Long-tails, Chatter-spats, Dundills
Sparries, Jenny Wren
Rain on horizon
Sunrise! Apple red where trees
Of starlings chatter
Flat field flooded now
A boating lake for seabirds
Feather flotilla
Red gape scrapes at seeds
Window feeder mealworm treats
Starling beaks clatter
October
Seagulls
fly past fields
Like a fishing net dragging
Autumn tides to shore
Starlings
arriving
In little drifts; falling leaves
Autumn flurries fly
Weymouth
Walking Weymouth beach
He feeds the beachcombing crows
Who follow his lead
On Westham Bridge, Weymouth
By
the bridge waiting
Patience of a saint, stone still
Heron prays for fish
By Beaples Standing Stone
Rook
rubs the sky clean
A feather duster dancing
Around the old stone
