scoop rays of sunshine in my arms,
caressed by amber glow on my skin,
welcoming the golden taste on my lips
as I sweep through lush green meadows
garlanded by summer's bridal veil.

trees show off their delicate finery,
buds unfurl awakening from shy repose
and the river swishes her silvered tail,
necklaces of pearls strewn on her ripples,
breathless in her bubbling chatter.

clouds fly high in a dizzying azure sky,
white tresses trail kite tails chasing the breeze,
ears of golden wheat chaff my calves
as the sea of corn parts bowing in my wake
and I gather the swathes of golden rays.

Walking in rain
Feet soaked again

Running through puddles
Warmed by cuddles

Slipping through mud
Clutching our hoods

Jumping in pools
Playing like fools

Soaked to the skin
With a big grin

Walking in rain
LET'S DO IT AGAIN

Out on the water
My sailboat and me
Sailing on the river
That leads to the sea

Out in the warm
Sunlit air
Sailing along
Without a care

Out in the stream
Where I can dream
And chase a sunbeam
And eat ice-cream

Under the sky
Clouds riding high
Where breezes sigh
And herons fly

Horses graze and
Children gaze
Cattle laze
In shimmering haze

Out past the lea
Feeling so free
Then turn around
Homeward bound

In time for tea

My sailboat and me.....

Here I venture, a pilgrim seeking a rekindling of faith,
odors of candle wax and polish assailing my senses,
cacophony of deafening silence ringing in my ears,
spirit baptized by the banishment of white noise.

the dead linger here, striving for immortality
In chiseled inscriptions on cold damp moldering walls,
their images resting on fractured marble sarcophagi
or entombed in stone coffins in subterranean crypts.

A carved eagle on his lofty oak pulpit
is rendered speechless by my questing intrusion,
guardian of a weighty tomb of wise men's words
displayed in vellum imbued with humanity's devotions.

I tiptoe reverently over worn tomb stone slabs,
final resting places of the pious and the wealthy,
bones ground down to dust by the passing centuries,
the dead briefly resurrected by my lingering gaze.

countless communion congregations have knelt here,
speedily departing after parson's hell fire sermon
to warmer hearths deemed more convivial for
the imbibing of wine weighted against the saving of souls.

yet still i'm drawn to this cold stone place of devotion
in my desire to untangle roots and long lost connections,
a thousand years have passed since this roof was raised,
a million voices since have sung their hymns in praise.

gazing into the wavering winter sun,
earth and sky become one mantle of silver shimmering mist,
clouds hover stubbornly refusing to wander away,
obscuring the sun's caress from.my face.

the wind has decided to breeze away early,
anxious to keep some prior arranged appointment,
cattle tracks in the mud remind me of the sign on the gate
'bulls in field"
noting the 's'. (as if one isn't bad enough).

I meet a backpacker lurching
precariously through the dead heather
carrying an entire house on his back,
studiously trying to avoid deep hidden puddles.

gnarled trees with birds nest 'hair-dos'
cling tenaciously among the crags,
the birds flown off to sunnier climes
leaving the whispering moors in their wake.

heavy brooding clouds must insist on following me,
intent on hammering me with their stair-rod rain,
air distills into a denser fog-saturated mist
reluctantly my frozen feet turn for home..

the earthquake deigned to rumble through our house,
a runaway train rattling against windowpanes,
careening along like some crazy joy rider,
hurling from nowhere to no where's end.

porcelain plates thrown by a drunken juggler
smashing in splintered shards of blue and white,
ponies in the paddock tossing their manes,
wildly galloping with eyes rolled back in panic.

Mother stood in the middle of this, glaring, hands on hips,
albeit body now tilted at a somewhat precarious angle,
but staunch nonetheless - mouth shaped in a perfect 'O',
determination to remain upright tattooed in her stance.

tiles began to dislodge cascading into the yard,
detonating like shrapnel from an exploding nail bomb
and water began belching from a discontented drain cover,
all in all not the best of Mondays...

considerately it departed as quickly as it arrived,
leaving dislodged furniture upended in its wake,
Mother, as calm as ever in an earthquake, swat a circling fly
which had the audacity to try to seek refuge in her hair.

No other and me began the painstaking reconstruction,
thankful that the walls of our humble dwelling
had refrained from lurching into the yard beyond,
Mother disappeared to explore the medicinal benefits of gin.

Like a bird in winged flight
In and out my dreams do glide
To vanish in the morning light
In dawn's soft clouds to hide

I dearly wish as I awaken
As my dreams fade far away
That I might once more be taken
To those gentle dreams one day

I sense a spell now broken
As conscious thoughts intrude
Those dreams become mere tokens
Of a fleeting interlude

April dances on tip-toes
Sprinkling daisies as she goes
Bewitching green buds to unfurl
Above her crown soft clouds now curl

In the woodlands, in the dells
Weaving magic - casts her spells
The trees now wake from slumbers deep
As April skips around their feet

Celandines carpet meadows green,
Bluebells in our woods are seen,
Daffodils sway in gold arrays
As April brings these longer days.

In the heavens the sun now climbs,
Heralds warmth from southern climes;
The lark again his song now sings
As April flies on butterfly wings.

Enchantment lies in these primrose skies
As winter's mantle once more dies.