(With gratitude to poet G.M. Hopkins)

Praise for all variation,
that diversified play of colour and shape
which takes away sameness
and paints nature with sheer tessilation.
Hooray for the patchwork
of harlequin stripes in that mackerel sky
or those chequered blotches
embroidered on coats of every dalmatian.
Applause for the hues
shot through peacocks and each rainbow,
those pied streaks in ponies,
marbling of stone, the frets in wide bands
on speckled trout, braided
tattoos over the backs of zebras and tigers
flecked with a motely
collection of artistically peppered mosaics.
Smiles for tri-colours
in butterflies and piebald frogs just made
to reflect luminous wet.
For kaleidoscope difference let praise be
and for all crazed irridescence
seen in the glorious abundance of nature.

This time last year
when he was here
skies stayed bluer,
dawnings newer,
horizons clearer,
and distance nearer.
Clouds looked whiter,
sunset brighter,
dreams were sweeter,
night held no fear.
Life seemed exciting,
smiles spread wider,
sighs lost meaning,
tears disappeared.
Dark days grew fewer,
hope flowed truer,
dreams became deeper,
believing easier.
A future shone lighter,
love felt so right,
this time last year,
when he was here.

Ten buttercup summers ago
shy gilt strands spiraled above
dual attraction,
moments fanned friendship
into smoke of commitment and
passion strewed
petals on paths of romance.

Five lavender seasons past we
picked fragrant happiness when,
defences fallen,
meadows of floral nectar ended
aloneness and love
waltzed thru' former convention
without any regret.

Three hollyhock years gone
seeds birthing in tended hearts
took root then softened
and doubt fell to vows of total
at-oneness until, coffined
by onerous shattering shock
hope's dreams met ice and froze.

One mourning ago grief's cold
wilted heart's planted for pleasure
and brought death's scent
to love's beautiful garden, yet
faded now into memory
shades of our flowers still hold
those petals of specialness.

Great standing stones,
lichen pocked,
weather worn omens,
older than old,
fern spotted,
devotion holed,
wind bitten,
upright tho' time honed.

Granite flecked rocks,
holy pinnacles,
mossy grass knotted,
atop high hills,
or valley hidden,
sole history keepers
you alone know
ancient faith watchers,


so tell me your secrets.

Stars like sparks splutter to bed
as birds catch fire.
****-red lips of sultry sun kiss
mouldering night
and in dawn's shimmering light
greet lightening sky.
Throat of thrush flintily strikes
other minds as incite
to fly for edge of day's eye sets
alive morning's
explosions that electrify every
tongue in flight
while I, amazed, note the calls
of each feathered
awaker who knows time's sign
has arrived to feed
if for today chicks are to thrive.

After annual bustle of end's festival feasts
2016, sagging under repletion,
blinks crusty lids and remembers December.

The time for retiring infuses old heart-beats
with intention of losing as top rank yields
to immature youth pretentiously present.

As New Year's first birth-cry appears bristling
with fervour the white whiskered
Sage denies more twelve-monthly contracts.

Wisely de-throned a King's brisk move permits
sight of things not as yet seen, quickens
time's costly broom to sweep free any lost past.

So as stale dies back may the un-tried drench
every mind with opportune's freshest
for regrets bear naught to the weaving of new
.
Wishing dear friends that 2017 brings a scent
of real riches, gifting you peace, health
and moments of memorable happenings too.

With warm New-Year hugs to all - from Fay.