Autumn woodland

Washed out sunshine filtering
Through bare branches fingering the sky,
Touching a carpet of yellows and browns,
Gradually decaying into a rich black loam.
Gnawed acorns scattered around,
Accompanied by the occasional clatter
Of falling twigs as a pigeon alights
On a piece too rotten,
The ivy encrusted trunk seemingly held up
By the parasitical plant rather than itself.
But look more closely -
The season might be dying, but not the wood.
Note the budding hazel,
Whose catkins will brighten up the spring.
Or the hinting willow,
Whose furry pussies complement the catkins.
Or the shooting plantlings,
Who take advantage of the extra light.
The wood in autumn is a metaphor for us all.
Something great might be passing,
But look closer - the seeds of the
New are there to see.
It will be great again.

Savages Wood

A flash of pink lets me think,
That I know what I can see.
A jay has flown up onto a branch,
And is staring down at me.

A cackle, almost a laugh,
As it cocks its head aside,
Its jet black eye staring down
On what nature can provide.

It's autumn, and the ground is covered
In a leafy carpet, brown,
But turn them over, look below,
And see what can be found.

Millipedes and juicy worms
Teeming all around
Mixed with buried nuts and seeds
As a squirrel whirls around.

Because the bounty isn't infinite,
The plenty will not last.
As already the weathers' turning,
And the winds' an icy blast.

There are toadstools in the grasses,
And fungi all around,
Bracketing the ends of logs,
Helping them return back to the ground.

Although things are shutting down,
This isn't the woodlands' end.
As rotting leaves and logs provide
A start so that it can send

A helping hand to the spring to come,
When the flowers will bloom again.
For the woodland cycles through the years
Far longer than the lives of men.

The Moon

The Moon, La Lune,
La Luna, A Lua,
De Maan, Der Mond,
Ang Buwan, Bulan,
Selene, Phoebe,
Isis, Bendis,
Nanna, Abnoba,
Mani, Selardi,
Tsukuyomi, Anumati,
Chandra, Marama,
Whatever it's called,
It shines all the same,
Dappling the ground,
Creating shaded frames.
Circling the earth,
Inching away,
A romantic light,
Signalling end of day.

Explanation.

(Words for Moon in English, French,
Spanish, Portuguese,
Dutch, German,
Filipino, Indonesian)
(Next Moon gods - Greek, Greek,
Egyptian, Thracian,
Sumerian, Celtic,
Norse, Urartian,
Japanese, Hindi,
Hindi, Polynesian)

Deathstyle

After you've been buried in your clothes,
You'll soon be nothing but decomposing adipose,
In a box of wood, six feet under,
Having your flesh rent asunder,
By worms and beetles, the bones stripped bare,
They might leave traces of your hair.
But above the surface, little remains,
A headstone, on it written some short refrains.
It doesn't matter how you lived,
Your riches, or what you believed,
What you ate, or whether you went the extra mile,
Your lifestyle is not your deathstyle.

A Kingfisher in Hambrook

A flash of brilliant irridescent blue,
Darting up from a languid stream,
Before diving out of sight, but not from mind.
It might have only been a moment,
But the moment lives forever,
For who can forget such a magical moment?
Such brightness against the ivyed wall,
A natural effervescence, fleeting yet lasting.

A moment....

It was a moment so together
But also a moment so alone.
A moment so perfect,
Yet almost surreal.
Under the bridge,
Brook babbling by,
Rain falling down,
Curtaining off the world.
Cars drove above,
Oblivious to us both.
Music playing on the phone,
Us jumping around,
Holding hands,
Laughing at each other,
The rain locking everyone out.
The innocence of youth,
The joy in the simple,
Unspoilt by what is yet to come.
Eventually it eased,
And the moment passed.
Time to break the curtain,
To break the spell,
To enter the world of others.

The Tapestry

The tapestry of life is made up of multiple threads
Which intertwine to create earths' picture.
It shows the past, that what has been, history,
And is built from the present, that what is,
And eventually even what will be.
Threads start, join together and build a picture.
Threads drop out, moments of sadness,
And some just fade away, teased out ends
Of faded glories, forgotten and unnoticed as
The tapestry grows on.
A stitch in time saves nine they say,
But a stitch is but a moment,
And a picture is made of thousands,
And the tapestry even more.
The tapestry remembers, everything's there,
Threads that change directions showing decisions made,
Warfare's efforts cause others to fade.
But the best part of all are those threads that appear,
Moments of joy that let the tapestry live on.
Each new threads' journey unknown,
Their pictures to be built.
Threads will bind together, strengthening the picture,
But none go on for ever.
For that is the sadness that is the tapestry of life,
But also its strength - everyone has a record,
Everyone has a stitch in time.

Tufted Duck

A pair of tufted duck have been observed on the Three Brooks lake, and seem to have been there for a couple of days. Perhaps the presence of a male/female pair means that they might breed?

Gadaffi

Gadaffi's first long outburst on TV covering the protests in Libya can be summarised as follows:-

Gadaffi: Leaving power and the country - over my dead body!

The opposition: That can be arranged.

Return of the redwings?

With the return of the cold weather, perhaps we have the return of the redwings - Disgruntled noticed one in his front garden this morning amongst a group of blackbirds.