nature

Taihaku Joypiloting at Alnwick Garden

We launch, feet pushing from worn grass. 
Our thick sleeper-swing, dampscented by 
April showers hitting heavy rope, 
cradles us under the boutique of Taihaku blossom.

A tender spring whisperbreeze rustles,
swirling silken kisses around the orchard. 
Calm wonderstruck coos echo from fellow joypilots.

Knees propel us further into the vortex, 
paperlight white-pink petals dress us, 
accidentally feed us. 

Bitter tastes are fleeting chasing contentment storms.

We slow,
our legs heavy in a serotonin lake,
flooded with vanilla-cherry pheromones.

A blissful embrace.

An Affair of Pipistrelles

Shrouded in the half-light 
of a crow-dusk sky and ruby streetlamp blur 
I observe hidden lovers 
tango in mid-air 
wings outstretched ready to hold the earth  
                                   in their lust-love 

time is stolen by the passion of the near-night  
                          and silent melody of the harp-moon 

until the crackle of burnt leaf-beacons
warns of a stoat’s prying eyes
               
         endangered by discovery
         the paramours bow into the shadows 
leaving only the gentlest echo of their romance 
                                                           
                                                                           to the dark.

Autumn From The Kitchen Window

Maple leaves are falling        like          flames
touch-paper thin and crisp dry
perfect kindling for burning 
              the last vestige of summer.

Brambles bruised as a boxer's eye
are being wrangled by magpies and jays 
blue tail-feathers glisten 
with every blood-spattered                     bite.

 Furnace-chested robins stare menacingly 
        their smouldering coal claws 
seem melted to the gatepost 
soul-bound guardians 
                      - a comforting presence. 

The arrival of a delivery van 
steals my view
       -      ambushes my catatonia.

Community Orchard Picking Party

pears are dangling
silvery earthen-green earrings
inviting to be removed from leafed ears
some have rotted in the intensity of the sun
                                                                     sheen dulled to clay rust 

damson plums nestle into branches
like amethyst hiding in rock
only smoothed
precious stone                          fruit hiding
                                                                    emerald green flesh

braeburns have fallen
comfortable in the flame-kissed leaf beds
and honey golden late summer grasses
                                                                   orbs of sweet promise

the kids are dressed as pirates
wandering with small baskets
ripe with wonder
they gather their               treasures
before a couple of cavaliers
                                                                   spoil their bounty.

Ryūjin

devour the sand 
plunder every grain 
horde them in your golden keep 
conquer this land fleetingly
    – rise triumphant 
spread your scales of quicksilver 
under the feathered winter sun 
retreating only 
–  at the moon’s blunt counsel. 

This poem was created in response to the Imagist Poet Hilda Doolittle’s poem Oread as part of TopTweetTuesday on X/Twitter.