A buzzard and some swallows

The Buzzard Above

Circling high above

A slow Ferris wheel ride; free

In carnival skies

Soulful Autumn blues

A crisp air and slow tempo

Solo turn on stage

A singular truth:

To know the limitless sky

Wing and a prayer

Swallows along Cinnamon Lane

The lane (bursting ripe

Hedgerows laden with late fruit)

Is your flightpath home

Crane flies, mosquitoes

Wasps, fruit flies, midge and darter

Alfresco mixed grill…

A flash of summer!

Then two more; swallow wings dip

The deepening lane

Crow at the supermarket

Squashed carpark cupcake

Now, dodging cars, Crow parties

Celebration sponge!

Hands in pockets all

Casual like; ‘Ere,’ he caws

‘Got any crumbs then?’

Falcon, wren and sparrows

Peregrine Falcon

Hawk-eyed, on the fence

Warily watching for food

Bird table sentry

Silent dawn chorus

Falcon glides emptyhanded

No song for supper

Wren

The wren on the fence

A little feather whistle

Blown away by wind

Sparrows

Good day! Good day! Hey!

Dapper in flat cap and tweed

Sparrows chat away

  

Under the rooftiles

A secret stash of treasure

Jack sparrow’s new nest

Wales

Sixteen kites strung out

Above the black hills, hanging

On storm Gareth’s tail

Lone kite, a bright flag

Above the bracken field, keeps

Watch on the wild wind

The heron; stillness

Personified. Unmoving

Until camera clicks!

Grey heron lingers

Haunting the water margins

Hidden from my lens

Swans, Herons and Starlings

Two Swans

Wrapped in sheets of mist

Two swans sleep; waiting for snow

Winter’s white duvet

Two Herons

Mid-air pas de deux

A pair of herons dance by

Encore! Encore! More!

Two Thousand Starlings

Overhead, at dusk

Two thousand wings whispering

This way. This way home.

January Birds

In the Orchard under the Tor

Gliding keen branches

Mustard, like late mistletoe

Green glimpsed woodpecker

On the bird table

Starling, stuttering

Over the abundant seeds

This! And this... and this?

Starling Flocks Arriving Overhead One Evening in November

Here, now; a blanket
Of soft wings brushing the sky

Draws evening close by

The absence of sound

Their solidarity speaks

A thousand times loud

Air net. A lattice of

Beak and wing to stop falcons

From feasting on them

In the late lilac

Sky; thin ribbons of birds fly

Above the old thorn