House Martins in September

Sycamore seeds spin
While House martins circle tree
Spirals everywhere

 

Swallow and swift gone
House martin hesitates; a
Late summer harvest

A week of sunshine
And the House Martin’s picnic
Fills the country sky

Summer Birds

Young Great Tit

In my hands, frail beat

Of fledged feathers, claw and beak

Fly now, far from me

The dog pauses, wait!

Just long enough for me to

Find a fledgling perch

Hunting Buzzard

Sky-writing above

Longhand. Slow, deliberate

Soliloquy quills

House-martins and Swallows

Weaving through hedgerows

With the evening summer light

Strings of bird bunting

Young Starlings at St. Margaret's Chapel 

From the bell tower

They leap. Hearts and wings clamour

Not falling...gliding!