So … just for a change a few poems
The Fox and The Hunt
The fox watches,
While the chaos of barking and hooves passes on.
Delicately it crosses the water,
Choosing the shallowest part.
Then, away,
A wild streak of red,
Free and contemptuous up the hill.
Manx Shearwater off South America
Off Cabo Note,
Off Punta Jericouquara,
Or Calanhar and Mar Chiquita, Punta Sur.
In the twilight,
Where the phosphorescence dots the long Atlantic swells,
A bird, brown and small,
Holds inside her head, six thousand miles of sea
And the rooty darkness of the Mewstone burrow
Where all her journeys hinge.
There, the chick she was,
The chick she makes
Peeps and peeps,
Fluffy-fat and ready for the miles and miles
For the phosphorescence and the twilight
For the long Atlantic swells,
Off Cabo Note,
Off Punta Jericouquara,
Or Calanhar and Mar Chiquita, Punta Sur.
Choughs At Marloes
Kiaow! Kiaow!
The choughs are coming.
Their black silk fingertips
Tickle the updraught
So it smiles them into flight.
They slide,
A hand’s breadth from the clifftop
Then, down, as if the sunwarmed turf
had just come up to kiss them.
They gleam
They glint, slick black.
Their bud-red beaks bright against the green,
Busy blustering beetles from their holes.
Kiaow! Kiaow!
Their voices strike the glass-still air,
Making it chime and chime,
Ringing in the Springtime.
Panda Song
Snow is falling in the mountains,
And I’m up here all alone
Hoping for a little glimpse of
The rare bear that’s monochrome.
Snow is falling in the mountains
Sighing on the bamboo leaves
Is that you there in the clearing?
Or just frost upon the trees?
Snow is falling in the mountains
In the silvery, fading light.
Am I dreaming, or did I see
A bear, of black and white?
Snow is falling in the mountains
Panda, are you there to find?
Or am I too late to save you
From being the last of your kind?
The Ballad Of Miss O and the Talking Crab
Miss Octo, hungry, found a crab
And quick as lightning made a grab.
Held too tight for acrobatics
Crab thought, ‘My one chance’s mathematics.’
‘Hey Miss O’ the crab spoke out,
‘Before I’m eaten let me count.’
Crabby didn’t hesitate
He counted arms, all one to eight.
‘My ten legs beats your eight Miss O,
You’ll have to let me go you know.’
Miss Octo froze – she found it rude
To be spoken to by food!
She squeezed him till he turned to pulp
Then swallowed him, in just one gulp.
The Great White’s Answer
I can swim just like a rocket
There’s no time to take fright.
What happens next? That’s easy!
Bite, bite, bite!
I can feel your nerves a sparking
Even if you’re out of sight
What happens next is simple:
Bite, bite bite.
I can smell your blood in water
If it’s day or if it’s night.
And then when I find you.
Bite, bite, bite.
You can ask me any question,
You can be rude or polite.
You’ll find the answer’s always:
Bite, bite, bite
BAT SONG
Summer dusk, shadows creep,
Owls call and babies sleep.
Out in the fading light
Bat flies into the night.
Bat loves, loves the night.
Bat swoops and Bat glides
Like a fish in the tide
She is welcome in the dark
As a fire takes a spark
Bat loves, loves the night.
She flies fast, she flies free.
Though in the darkness, she can’t see.
It’s her voice that guides her through,
Ringing out high and true.
Bat loves, loves the night.
Fat moths, little flies
All are caught in her cries,
Echoes bend, rise and fall,
Bat’s ears hear them all.
Bat loves, loves the night.
Summer dawn, blue sky
Larks call, babies cry
Bat will sleep through the light
Because she loves, loves the night!
Bat loves, loves the night.
