Flutter on the windowpane,
You seek the sun, but all in vain.
Did you need a place to hide,
Is that why you came inside?

Window fixed and just ajar.
Locked, it will not open far.
Careful hands ‘round you, I cup.
Gently, gently lift you up.

As I left the house I saw,
In the sun near my front door.
Dancing wings brushed by my cheek,
Then off, to nectar’s blossom seek.

Oh. No. An Acorn!

An Acorn lying on the ground

What are you doing here on the ground?
You should be up in your leafy bower.
Were you told to get out and go somewhere else,
For taking too long in the shower?

Don’t talk to me about autumn and such,
It’s too soon to discuss that yet.
Get back in your tree and don’t come down,
’til summer’s been back to pay off its debt.



When thistledown clouds the air,
Autumn won’t have long to wait.
Dandelions have lost their hair,
Left with a stem and a bald pate.
When at last September’s here,
You’ll know this is back-end o’ year.

Days get short and nights close in,
The sun no longer climbs so high.
Flocks of rooks make such a din.
Bracken leaves turn gold and die.
Then you’ll know September’s here,
And now this is back-end o’ year.

A Rare Sunny Day

The Lake District Hills enjoying the sunshine.
The Hills enjoying the sunshine

Hello Hills. Not seen you ’round for a gloomy while.
Had rain on rain with dark grey skies in a tumbled pile.
And clouds so low, I’m sure they dragged the bottom of their skirt.
Right across our soggy field in all the muck and dirt.

Through sodden air, we couldn’t see the far side of the beck.
Just raindrops driving, slanting down when I looked out to check.
Yet, there you are, back in your place, now the rain is done
Looking fresh and newly washed, stretched lazily in the sun.

Tea Break

Cows – Chewing the cud.

Our job is really simple,
We’re here to eat the grass
We do it just by instinct,
We never took a class.

From morn ’til night we wander,
With ne’re a chance to rest.
Munching, first from north to south,
And then from east to west.

But here on England’s pastures,
No liberties we take.
At ‘leven o’clock, precisely,
We stop for our Tea Break.

Yellow Loosestrife

Yellow Loosestrife

Yellow Loosestrife standing there,
Do your best to show you care.
Mid unkempt grasses make a space,
And stand up tall to mark your place.

Spikes of yellow presentation,
In late summer devastation.
All else is lost, but you remain,
Until the gardener comes again.


Harebell standing mid the grasses,
Beautiful but frail you seem.
Dance as every zephyr passes,
Stillness just a longed-for dream.

Dance and twirl as lightest breezes,
Tickle you and make you laugh.
I wait until your motion freezes,
To try to take a photograph.

Yarrow, Milfoil, Woundwort

Yarrow, Milfoil, Woundwort

Yarrow or Milfoil. Known to all since ancient times.
A plant of magic power but easy to overlook.
As an oracle often used in Eastern climes.
Confucius took, from your stalks, the laws in his book

Woundwort, a healing balm when fights with sword and shield
Leave men bruised and battle-scarred from glory’s affray.
Achilles did heal his host on Troy’s battlefield
With your leaf and stalk kept crushing defeat at bay.


Hogweed Seed Head

The summer brings the fullness to all of your ambition.
Your seeds are ripe, a time for rest, your work complete.
You strove with all at your command, you asked for no condition.
Tomorrow’s seeds you leave behind for time’s defeat.

We mortals too, will give our all and ask but naught of Fate.
But grow within our chosen earth which, with our deeds,
We enrich the tilth that our experience will create.
So, when our time is done, we too will leave sewn seeds.

Speedwell, Speedwilt

Speedwell or Speedwilt

Bright blue Speedwell, what can I believe,
What do such vibrant petals hope to achieve?
Shall I sew them in my coat’s hem?
May I journey safe with them?

Bright blue Speedwilt, what can I believe,
What? Do such vibrant petals hope to deceive?
Do men’s promises fade so fast?
Are there none whom you outlast?

Folk’s Gloves


Fox Gloves, Folk’s Gloves, fairy fingers dress.
Woodland Folk, they have their ways that we can only guess.
Best not to talk too loud around their fairy rings.
Look away, don’t mention them and speak of other things.

Ash tree, Oak tree, Rowan – Devil’s bane.
Ash tree roots go down to hell. Oak tree, heal my pain.
Branch of the Rowan, keep our threshold clear.
Bad luck and grief and woe may not enter here.

In Our Bubble

Tea and Cake

The local bubble assembled.
Aware of the risks they could take.
None hesitated, none trembled.
Ventured all for the Tea and the Cake.

The meeting was called to order.
To check attendees were awake.
Dragged back from dreamland’s border,
Meditating on Tea and on Cake.

The motion proposed was profound,
And dealt with the issues at stake,
With arguments perfectly sound,
“It’s time now for Tea and for Cake.”