The morning misty white
winter's night turns through blue to pink
a delicate porcelain haze
diaphanous scarf of silk that floats
above the sleeping hills  
this season
like a dream
creates the beautiful scene
that decorates the window every day
of which I never tire
an ever changing kaleidoscope
of colours shapes and sounds
but now
all is cloaked in snow in mounds

Margaret Ann Waddicor 19th January 2016

Frost fingers all in mesmerised still
bright crystals decorate like candied sticks
all is clothed to act this winter's solemn dance
through our imagination
trees bustle in the valley their heads of palest grey
while hills in heavy moleskin coats mimic the clouds
those cumulus shrouds that drape our season all in white
so cold - so desperate - a sense of nature's sleep
petrified each straw - left like sculptures bent
and when the dawn its blue turns soft sweet pink
we gasp - how beautiful the view as if 'twere new

Margaret Ann Waddicor 19th January 2016

The drone of a plane
across the pale blue sky in winter's white
where sunlight touches trees on hills
warms the walls of houses  
packed like cards
their roofs like shards all placed at angles
tilted lights
a still that calms the senses
as one gazes at the view

Margaret Ann Waddicor 16th January 2016

The willow wrote my thoughts
on the surface of the river
remember them then she said
but I did not
they flowed on down into the sea
of my other thoughts
and mixed up in its melting ***
churning and turning about
in the weeds at the bottom of nowhere

we catch glimpses of our old thoughts
often inspired by something that moves us
and if we don't write them down
they go on and are forgotten
this is part of what poets try to capture
the moments that have stirred the mind
into sensing something special
something out of the ordinary
and so a poem is born

Margaret Ann Waddicor

Will I see another dawn
another night 
another way 
for now I'm ticking slow 
and I'd very much like you to know 
that I love you 
I think you know 
but I'll tell you so

the moon is low 
the summer's gone 
my autumn's come 
farewell to you 
farewell to every one 
my life is done 
my own particular heaven won
I see beyond 
into the dark 
into the light 
I'll die tonight

Margaret Ann Waddicor 5th September 2015

Happy summer touch your window
as you meet her perfumes free
the clover on the lawn its magic galaxy
the roses on your path
make soft the fall of footsteps
gently sounding with the bee
the dance of insects in the shade
each blade is made to shine
in the showers that came at night
a cool that nature covets
when the stars have lost their light

Margaret Ann Waddicor 8th July 2014.

Spring is come and spring is going
and no word from my love is flowing
down the page of purest white
with ink so black as darkest night

winter thaw has finished now
and spring took over with the bough
all dressed in coloured petals all
fit for the hall of a wedding ball

so give me sign that you are there
where the brook is purling fair
in that very secret place
I want to stroke your sensitive face

so well I do remember then
when we sat and watched the wren
sing his song so piercing loud
like a cheering teenage crowd

as we sunk together down
on the grasses golden brown
found each others tender dream
as flowers floated on the stream

ah would that that time come again
so now could be and not a then
the wren he sings but no one's there
except my thoughts as ever ware

time passes like a drifting shawl
across the sky and we enthral
like memories that light our sky
of lying there just you and I

Margaret Ann Waddicor 25th April 2012.