September 22nd 2020 : The Slack Tide

Nene 

brim full

an early morning

sunlit spell

no high no low 

no power to pull.

A sea becalmed

 a river with no flow

so still and still

and silent soft

and all the water 

innocence.

No tide

 no time 

but 

all was equal

 for a while

We held

a balance

 in the Nene 

this day of Summer's end

 

September England 2020: Song of the Wheat

 

Song of the Wheat  

Lincolnshire rain 

in dyke and in ditch

has ruined the wheat

and blackened the husk

the wheat which said wheat

and us us us 

wheat wheat wheat 

and us us us 

stands silent now

dark mauve

so still

mildew and damp spores 

and mouldy kernel

But I heard it once 

fresh rustling free

whispering it's name 

to the sky and to me 

wheat wheat wheat 

and us us us 

wheat wheat wheat 

and us us us 

William Blake: Mildew  Blasting Ears of Corn 

August England 2020: After the sun.

Cloud

thick white

 magenta light

and distant now

the birds song-sing

a muted echoed song

and weave

a ring dove echo ring

 we love you   we love you

where are you  where are you

their mournful solemn round.

Daylight and darkness

move through a ditch

we hold our breath

and watch

the roses shudder

the pigeon's worried warning

bounces off the ground.

So careless in the sun

those days unravelled

were gently spun

and all the time to languish spent

and all our sunshine fortune gone

trinkets and wings and sweet birdsong

and foolish fun.

    

Now our birds look north, fly east,

perch back on aerial bars and still

gaze out across the land 

and wait

for carefree times

to come