Posted on 6th October, 2016





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





                                                  In the faint golden afterglow 

                                                  Of summer’s evening,

                                                  A heron stands bathed,

                                                  Its back damp with falling dew.


                                                  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,


                                                  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







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