LIVEWIRES 2016 - DAY SEVEN

Nature Diary : Fiona Russell

The Sappit Field 

is drifts of yellow mimulus gently
nodding to roe buck grazing there

is scythe winged swifts looping, careening,

whorling in sinking amber sun

is snow-berry on frosted twig, a slither

of mottled moon above Kenlum

is the rowan tree with blood-red fruit where
sharp-billed fieldfare bicker and gorge

is the brown river bed where dippers walk

and sparling once slid under rock

is a blue tit swinging on tufted grass,  
whirring his way from reed to birch

is the wren, tail cocked, scolding three teeny,
dumpling chicks as they fledge at dawn

is drifts of yellow mimulus sweetly
shielding a sloe-eyed, speckled fawn

by Christine Ashworth  

Tomatoes with ctenophota : Hazel Lowther

                                                                 Silhouette.

                                                  In the faint golden afterglow 

                                                  Of summer’s evening,

                                                  A heron stands bathed,

                                                  Its back damp with falling dew.

                                                  Motionless.

                                                  A proud silhouette as night drops,

                                                  Hiding intent to pierce

                                                  The silken waves

                                                  And spear unwary fish.

                                                  Fading into the night, and yet 

                                                  Remaining vigilant,

                                                  Waiting,

                                                  Serenely, knowingly,

                                                  For unsuspecting prey.

                                                 Thelma Hancock

Owl Light

Owls at twilight

Moan and quibble

Sociable in Autumn’s

Smoky after glow.

Sharpened by frost;

Their voices echo

Like old women

Comparing ills.

A last companionship,

Before Winter compels

Sharper cries of lone

Hunting until Spring.

Anne Micklethwaite.

Flock right in

Migration's in the blood at birth, obey its calling; 

Hi, I'm Bill Peck, central at the head of the flock,

Flying a V formation on thermals we're moving.

Whoop; squawk; structure's intact.

Climate change occurring, not preventing departure;

Tempests may torment us before journey's end.

Barnacles are endangered for decades,

Protected now for posterity.

Trying my luck on Claudia Bird, we've reached Caerlaverock.

In this safe dwelling we're mating; figures swelling,

Stretching our wings; finding fodder like confection;

Others perceive our presence.

ID: a breeze; individual markings on our beaks; look,

Ring us; they do. You know what we're up to.

A name given's a donation to this location,

Wildfowl Wetland Trust.

All vulnerable species welcome here;  nurturing

nature is the game in this location.

Sustaining; preparation; a return migration.

See you again next year.

Rita Dalgliesh 

............................................

Absence prompt

Mr Heatley

You took on a mission to walk in faith,

Opened your heart to a community;

Your pastoral duties you embraced,

Equally observing rich and wretched.

Motivation: His message to consider.

Conspicuous by your absence; how?

This heart has missed you, sore

For all you taught and tended,

Filling a hungry soul; decease,

Absence; memories remain.

Rita Dalgleish

                                                      If I were a centaur - Liz Waugh