Tag: poem

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Spring equinox in my back garden

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In the middle of my back garden
Blooms the magnolia, riotous at the moment.
Birds flock to it, so many different kinds.
Tits love it best, Great tit and Blue tit,
All happily hopping up and down the branches.
Between the magnolia’s roots the soil is soft and moist
And amidst the creamy petals are the blackbirds,
Sending Robin flying to join the greenfinch higher up.
The woodpecker only rests awhile,
Preferring my neighbour’s poplar tree
From where he adds rhythm to the cacophony of sound.
The stock doves – a couple – doze amongst the buds,
Eyes half-closed in the sunlight.
The wren – so small I almost miss her –
Looks like she could snuggle up
In one of the large open buds for a slumber.
The magpie, surely it is always the same one,
Does not cause a disturbance but stays in the pine tree,
Obviously displeased with this merry gathering.
The jay, rare visitor, streaks through the garden
With a warning cry: all hush up as the crow flies overhead.
But on a day like this he stays high up,
Glistening while swirling in the bright skies and
Throws no shadow on the tree and the birds it shelters.

©jsmorgane (March 2014)

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A New Beginning

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The bumblebee outside my window
Beckoned me to join him,
And so I lay myself down
Under the magnolia tree,
The sun warm on my face,
The cool, damp ground cradling me.

The unsuspecting robin
Stirs the air above my face
As I watch the creamy buds
Open joyously in welcome.
Breathing deeply, I flow out of
Myself and join in this
Eternal moment of spring.

©jsmorgane (March 2014)

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Fallen trees are like fallen dragons

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The acorn like an egg sets free the will to grow,
And they uncurl their branching wings,
Spreading wide, fulfilling their being a moment at a time.
They inhabit the deep yet reach for the light up high,
And bark-like scales are gleaming armour
To guard the great spirit of wisdom within.

But then one night the earth is so relaxed, the skies so wilful
That in the midst of dark they bow their crown and slowly,
Bending downwards with a sigh, the great beasts fall
Making the grounds tremble when with a crash
The creatures, accepting, let go of all strife.

When morning comes wearily, grey and burdened,
The rain finds the limbs splayed like bones splintered,
And the drops running down the creatures’ arched back
Are like tears mourning a greater destiny that
Has so found its end.

©jsmorgane (Feb 2014)