Cold, but the glint of Sun on the river.
Silver little sparklers on the surface.
Showing … then not … then showing, each glimmer.
Bright little spots displaying their purpose.

That is, destination for rays of light.
They, actually, travelled a long way.
Through space, at enormous speed, was their flight,
to finish by putting on this display.

So, all that twinkling is a miracle.
The silver dance belies the achievement.
But to my eye is also beautiful.
Aesthetically so, to great extent.

These shiny-metallic spray clusters, formed,
lets my artistic soul, by them be warmed.


Love the yellow of a rhododendron,
or, at much the same time, a laburnum.
Flowering currant, R.odoratum.
Broom, cytisus, genista, spartium.

Chimonanthus Winter Sweet ‘Luteus’.
Forsythia, of course, and Jews Mallow.
Dandelions, buttercups, copious.
Roses and poppies which come up yellow.

Tree Lupin Golden Spire. Senecio.
Jerusalem Sage. P.Fruiticosa.
Hypericum’s – St. Johns Wort – colour show.
Gorse, Mahonia. These Potentilla –

Elizabeth, ‘Jackman’s’, … ‘Katherine Dykes’.
All yellow, when flower, joyous delights.


They are big creatures not to be messed with,
the swans located at the river’s edge.
In a struggle best not to be tested.
Going too close to them is fool’s courage.

A snarl and a hiss likely as you pass.
That’s a warning not to invade their space.
Suggest, move on steadily, but quite fast,
and, with the risk involved, to know one’s place.

Don’t want them flying at you in a rage.
Biting and flapping wings powerfully.
Remember they’re wild, but not in a cage.
Will hurt if attack, inevitably.

They get on with their life when you are gone.
Misqoute … what not to do … ‘rile a white swan’.


A sprinkling of stardust, but the Sun’s light
makes it glitter, glow, even show golden.
What I know is a silver disc, in sight,
transforms. Sun-infused colours. Behold them.

A butterfly flutters head-height nearby,
and then it is off to the greenery.
Although could be in a tree or the sky,
birds on the ground enhance the scenery.

Even the river with plant residue
carpeting its surface, as though may tread,
flushes clear when the rainwater comes through.
Transparent, with a touch of black, instead.

A person can have changed appearances.
Ability to make what isn’t is.


Hear the noise of trains clearly this morning,
although the track is some distance away.
Like engine birdsong, this is its calling.
If be seen, shiny metal the display.

And two hoots are sounded, distinctively.
Like a runner expressing their presence,
Warns, but in effort too, instinctively.
Two syllable audio tumescence.

The airwaves must be clear for carrying,
between there and here, the propulsion breath.
So know it’s over there inhabiting,
the dragon heading for its station rest.

Those two notes that hoot high and low this far,
sing-song name of my walking dog, Rosa.


A very pale blue water-brushed picture,
but it is for real, the cloud formation.
The white dilutes, making blue-grey fixture.
Washed-out colour, my best explanation.

Yet, a strip three-quarters of the way down,
darker, almost purple, in appearance.
Uneven. Could imagine it as ground.
A bit of land with hills in the distance.

Below it, the pale blue again I see.
But in the overall view, it looks like …,
this bottom quarter … it resembles …, sea.
‘Land’scape, from here to land beyond, I sight.

Or, ‘Sea’scape, imagination implies.
An art picture from lightly patterned sky.


There are a lot living there. I hear them.
A community of birds in good voice.
In the mini copse, in branches nesting,
and singing. So much a difficult choice

deciding the sweetest to listen to.
There are many delightful little tunes
and tones, notes and rhythms. It’s magical.
Will be speech that’s understood, one assumes,

by each other. Their communication.
All sorts of ‘I am here’, declarations,
‘love me’. Well that’s my interpretation.
I’m sure are other interpretations,

but I don’t have the means here on the ground,
for their high-pitch, tricky, twittery sound.


A beautiful blue sky. It is sky blue.
If look closely can see the high-up cloud.
It’s integrated, so the blue looks true.
Wherever look, … ahead, left, right, around…,

consistently blue. Easy to assume,
from the ground here, not a cloud in the sky.
But, would see it all if closer could zoom.
Would reach, no doubt, if in the air could fly.

The Sun is there, with its liquid brightness.
Melted yellow. Hue which could make eyes blind.
Diluted as stretches out its lightness.
Bleaches nearby blue. In front or behind?

A winter’s sky. How lucky in this form.
Harshness to come, but in spring be reborn.