All on a Hallow’s Eve

Blue Moon

Hey diddle diddle, the moon is blue.
Riddle-me riddle-me-reeve.
What on earth is a cow to do?
All on a Hallow’s Eve.

The little dog giggled as bones danced by.
Rattle-me clatter-me-cleve.
A witch rode her broom across the sky.
All on a Hallow’s Eve.

The pumpkin face sang a raucous song.
Caterwaul flatter-wail-fleeve.
Ghosts gathered around to sing along.
All on a Hallow’s Eve.

Pass the Time

A friendly fungus

Today I paused beneath the trees,
To muse upon philosophies.
Walking the dog gives you the time,
To ponder on the reason’s rhyme

Lost deep within my reverie,
I thought that someone spoke to me.
Midst grassy bank two lips I saw,
But had they moved? I wasn’t sure.

‘I’ve seen you pass this way of late
And watched you walk and cogitate.
If you have time I’d like to find
Just what it is that’s on your mind.’

We spoke at length, Grass Bank and I
Of mostly what, and sometimes why?
At last, I bid to him, ‘Good day!’
Then turned and went upon my way.

Ivy Flower

Ivy Flower

Little bee a-buzzing mid the Ivy blooms.
Gather sweetness now as Winter looms.
Other blossom’s nectar all is spent.
I watch and wonder just where Summer went.

I hardly noticed Summer tiptoe past.
Long sunny days all slipped away so fast.
Now Autumn’s here and Ivy bears its flower.
Silent Winter watches from his icy tower.

Butterfly

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.

Back-end

Sheep

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.

Harebells

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.

Seeds

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.