Wednesday, 26 April 2017

Millington Pastures (East Yorkshire)

Abandoning our car in the woods
we head off up through the Pastures,
as the low winter sun catches one slope
we pull our fleeced envelope
tight against Natures extremes.

Kestrels, like tethered kites, hover.
Casting their beady eye over
steep, grassy valley sides
where still, cowering prey hide
not daring to break cover.

Shaggy, Highland cattle graze,
as the narrow valley winds its way
between high, banked walls
where echoing calls of crows 
break the shortening day.

Water bursts into life from below,
bubbles its way to the nearest hollow
where sheep come down to drink
and ramblers, like us, pause to think
and reflect before we go.

Tuesday, 4 April 2017

China ballerinas

They are two porcelain figurines,
dancing about each other.  Afraid to touch
in their brittle situation, in case
the brush of a hand
reminds them of the conversation
they’d rather avoid.
Their bed, once a sweet battlefield
is quiet now, trenches dug either side,
neither will yield,
a flag of truce flying in the cold air.
Fragile, easily broken.