A303
Starlings on power
Lines; two lanes of traffic queued
Waiting to arrive
A37
Seagulls billow up
White and grey rollers breaking
Over ploughed brown field
Buzzard, bare legs bent
On telephone pole
Meditating now
Lodmoor
Heron feather-cloak’d
Skims the scrubland with black wings
Fashionably late
Weymouth Seafront
Wagtail, dapper chap
Dip and bow to you too, Sir!
Waterline parade
A37
A pair of kites hang
High above the hilltop here
Taut in the updraft
A magical sight
As a merlin lands nearby
Eyes mesmerised now
Near the River Brue
Two swans, a poem
Written in a rhyne, gently
Drift in dusk’s warm light
