Light is my gift
\nAnd this mornings delight
\nSuch resplendence
\nA stillness
\nWith Colours so bright
\nBlossoms and buds
\nAnd murmurings peep
\nTiny wee leaves
\nWake up from their sleep
\nWith a freshness and boldness
\nEach bud is aflame
\nTiny hovering flies
\nEnjoying a game
\nOf hide and seek clearly
\nBobbing about
\nI am wearing my blue dress
\nAnd can hear them shout
\nAnd bathe in the light
\nIts intensity
\nWhich now does feel so right
\nIt\u2019s where I must be<\/p>\n
Hello Madam Snail
\nWith your home On your back
\nGifting us all your silvery track
\n\u201cHello Robbie redbreast
\nMy goodness you are
\nAs handsome as ever
\nA real living star\u201d
\nOf the fields and the woods
\nSo close to my home
\nA pretty companion
\nWhen gardening I
\nOften see Robbie
\nOn a fence close by
\nHe cocks his head one way
\nAnd I hear him say
\n\u201cI love coming here Dawn
\nI wish I could stay\u201d
\nHave you found any worms
\nFor me
\nCan I come see
\nand he flies to the earth
\nTo be closer to me<\/p>\n
He is part of the spectrum
\nThe pigments I see
\nWhen I am wearing my dress
\nI am able to be
\nSo understanding of the creatures I meet
\nFrom the tops of the heads to
\nTheir dear little feet<\/p>\n
Some more discreetly stare from afar.
\nbut Robbie is bold
\nHe is my little star
\nGossamer silks spread into the sky
\nCollecting the sunbeams
\nThat clearly do fly
\nAnd somewhere lies hidden
\nA spider by name
\nA butterscotch fairy
\nWhose claim to fame
\nIs she weaves her web
\nOf the silks from the sun
\nShe is bronzed she is tanned
\nAnd then she is gone
\n\u201cWhere does she hide Dear Spidery soul
\nPray tell me and share with me
\nWhat is your role\u201d<\/p>\n
Many new buds blushed with
\nCherry lips shine
\nClutching the dew
\nLike a pitcher of wine
\nDandelions roaring
\nTheir brimstone refrain
\nCling to the old walls
\nAnd clearly they gain
\nReverence rooted in clay
\nSeemingly
\nTheir roots pushing deeper
\nAnd deeper they be<\/p>\n
dappling stippling marbling
\nColours
\nSplashes and splodges
\nSpangles and stripes
\nThe lustre of Spring\u2019s sprung
\nThe minds eye is watching
\nWinking and blinking
\nJust all different types
\nOf animal vegetable mineral
\nFor me
\nTo visualise wonder and decide
\nWhere to be<\/p>\n
A wood pigeon wearing his white collar
\nBeautifully
\nSits perched atop an old cherry tree
\nStill clutching tightly some of last seasons leaves
\nWhilst sporting new buds so firmly believes
\nenergy saved is energy valued
\nOptics and peepers
\nSideways I see
\nSpring comes alive
\nOn April\u2019s suggestion
\nThe birch wafts it\u2019s pollen
\nAway constantly<\/p>\n
Many a human
\nKeen city dwellers
\nMay cough and may splutter
\nFrom birch trees who share
\nTheir sweet sherbet life force
\nA bulk pollination
\nRichly adorned and into the air<\/p>\n
But I in my blue dress
\nJust know of it\u2019s existence
\nIt doesn\u2019t affect me
\nNot when I wear
\nI am protected by magic
\nForever
\nBelievers are achievers
\nAnd always aware.<\/p>\n
I be the ultimate onlooker really
\nSpotting the secrets
\nAnd learning to be
\nQuizzing the occupants
\nLearning intently
\nWith more understanding
\nAll of us see<\/p>\n
My invisibility
\nTo other humans
\nI be the unseen
\nIn my dress of blue
\nBut the wild souls that frequent
\nThe countryside close by
\nThey are my true friends
\nMy constant revue<\/p>\n
My inner child
\nIs my valid companion
\nOur psyche\u2019 safe evident
\nTuned up and they
\nWork with the powers of thought
\nand perceptions
\nOur sub conscious freedoms
\nAre always in play<\/p>\n
Positivism
\nit\u2019s here in good measure
\nCogitative guidelines are just everywhere
\nIdeas and notions
\nAnd magickal potions
\nAnd spells as the rede sings
\nThe wild ones all share
\nA sacred bag with hag stone and feather
\nActs as my guidance
\nWherever I go
\nGiven with love and remembered
\nFor ever
\nA sweeping embrace
\nand no truer rondeau.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Light is my gift And this mornings delight Such resplendence A stillness With Colours so bright Blossoms and buds And murmurings peep Tiny wee leaves Wake up from their sleep With a freshness and boldness Each bud is aflame Tiny … Continue reading