Red Kite
The river, bridged by
A road and a red kite, marks
The confluence point
Wood Pigeon
Gathering twigs, you
Build a willow tree house in
View from my window
Seagulls
Three seagulls scull by
One calling ‘Stroke!’ as they fly
A blue summer sky
Swallows
Swallows turn sharply
Sizing up the summer fields
Wing spans set square now
Swifts
Above the house, there!
The needle song of swift flight
Threading through the sky
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
A twister springs up
Swirling wings in a grey sky
Seagulls storm the field
The farmer’s field lake
Grown fat with winter flooding
Now ducks feed for free
Through the window, here!
Robin acknowledges me
For windowsill seeds
