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Warmer air
Lilac tinted by
Heather and knapweed
Meadowsweet-scented
Carried by a wind
Less wild
I notice the way the rain
Feels cool against my skin
And love its gentle blessing
Wild water does this to us
It reminds us what is real.
A Kestrel
Find his place
Then waits.
Have you noticed the swallows
today, my love?
Screaming with joy
Tearing into the mist of midges
And knowing they are soon to fly.

Today the stars fall from the sky
And the gale blows us all to autumn
The wires are howling like winter
Moorlands and meadows
Move like an ocean
Rooks and crows
Still in the wildness
Hang like black kites
on the turbulent edge
But the Swallows
Are finding the space
between the waves
They fly like arrows
Against the tide
These winds disturb me
And buffet my ride
I can cope with the blows
From the front and the back
But struggle to steer
With those from my side.

I will carry your heart
To the top of the hill
In all of its gentle light.
It is not a weight to bear
It helps me to fly
There,
We can see the swallows
Gathering by the byre
And the heather is glowing
On the moor, a gentle fire
A million little lilac flames
And the air, shimmering
Dancing to the breeze
Everything burning
With love.
Even the trees
The leaves are turning
And the rowan sets red light
To the meadow.

The hope is in the knowing
That the wheel will turn again
It's cold today
And the wind has an edge
The sky is grey and heavy
And the fields are full of weeds
But this is a time of gold
Ragweed is a paradise
to butterflies and bees
Each its own small galaxy
Each bloom
Its own golden heart
Swallows weave
Between tall towers
Of willowherb and dock
Like the tailors needle
Stitching us together
Making our world
More beautiful
One thread at a time

Wild music
Gathering geese
Great in number
And loud across the silver waters
Echoing across the rushy hillside
To the summit
Where I wait.
Dark Ravens
in the heavens
Calling down
In spirals
As they soar
Upon the thermals
Rising softly
From the moor
Cool and clear
A stong wind blowing
And winter feed
is right for stacking
Dried and tied
And dressed in black

Wild music
Gathering geese
Great in number
And loud across the silver waters
Echoing across the rushy hillside
To the summit
Where I wait.
Dark Ravens
in the heavens
Calling down
In spirals
As they soar
Upon the thermals
Rising softly
From the moor
Cool and clear
A stong wind blowing
And winter feed
is right for stacking
Dried and tied
And dressed in black

The Rowan's red is deepening
And Goldenrod
is high with yellow froth
Wormwood silver
shimmers by the ditch
Swallows flying low
along the road
Wheeling through
The milk-rich pasture
The southern wind is stronger
And the sky is heavy
It may rain
But there's joy
In my heart
And a gentle greeting
From the silver Heron rising
From the tinkling stream

I wish for a hare
And one appears,
By the twisted gate, just there
Long ears,
dark and twitching
Trembling like a leaf
In a summer breeze
And away to the ragweed
And nettles she races
And disappears,
as if she was never there.
My head is full of coloured jewels
and flashing diamonds
Golden stories
love and loss
In my childhood masquerade
And the last wisps of cotton
Are fluttering on the moss.

The lime green maple
So bright in the sun
A foil to the cornflower
Blue of the sky
A freshness to the air today
And just a hint of autumn
In the turning of the leaves
We are on the edge of things again
I'm noticing the quietness of the moss
The Swifts have flown,
And Swallows and Martins
are gathering in crowds
Bit high above us all.
noble dark and singing
In deep and clear tones
The lofty Raven watches
As the wide world turns

These are the days
That I look to from the winter
No sign now
of the cold and raging winds
My way is easy
no snow or ice to frighten me
No question of my wheels
Slipping on the road
The endless sky is blue
And my ten hills are gentle
The south wind
helps me on my way
Butterflies and honeybees
Are busy on the thistles
Tall grasses, wormwood
And cool green moorland oak leaves
Delight my hand
Reaching as I ride
The soft breeze holds me safely
Deep in the beauty of the day

Softly and warm
A blanket of grey air
Rests in the valley
And gently it sits
on the high hills
damping and moist
Fat raindrops forming
Not falling, but floating
Somehow,
Waiting for me
Cleansing me
Cool to my face
As I race
down the hillside
I'm dazzled by Swallows
In fluttering company
And out on the moorlands
A Raven is singing
Down in the deeps
of his bass.

The beauty of the universe
In a single dewdrop
Teetering
On a thistle prickle
Dazzling like a precious jewel
White flames like diamond
Then amethyst
Glistening with thistle light
And gold, and blue and cinnabar
Twinkling like a new-made star.
And I am holding all of this
In my heart
Knowing there will be war
And trouble,
But knowing too
That you are always there,
Running with the breeze
With grace and elegance
Flowing over the meadow
With quicksilver footsteps

She fled
Her insistent lover
Taking shape
In a smaller beauty
Whispering to me
I whisper back to you.
A gentle greeting
Soft as the breeze
As butterflies flutter
Their gentle entity
Up towards a brilliant sun.
Where have you been hiding
My little love?
How did I not know
That you were here
All along?

A south-westerly breeze
Bringing a gift of love
Rustling the darkening leaves
Of my moorland oak, shining
The mowing is done
Dark windrows
stretch to infinity
Haybails and harebells
And tall purple thistles
Dance at the edges
Of sweetness and light
Where all the beauty
Is found
A golden sun
Sits on my right shoulder
The smiling moon on my left
And the Raven calls me home

Beautiful sunday
This golden morning
The air's alive
With scents of summer
Elder nectar,
sweet as honey
Raspberries ripening by
The shimmering road
Swallows chatter
Racing low and joyful
Over the meadow
Ringlets rise and twist in spirals
Gatekeepers suckle
In beds of clover
A tall Heron
Silver in the sunlight
The guardian of his rivulet
And the Ravens glossy darkness
Lights the moor

High summer
A red letter day
Gold and lilac
On the banks
of the roadside
Clover sweet-scented
Soft and delightful
Under my foot
There's a chiffchaff
Singing by the ruins
Sweetening time
As I pass by, slowly
I'm not ready
for the rough
Or the tumble
Of the track
But the wildness
Enticed me

The buzzards hover over us
Watching our every move
Second guessing,
A trespass on our freedom.
And here I am
Finding joy,
And the beauty of solitude
Spiced and scented
Mown meadows and
Perfumed wormwood
The open road
A blank page
My only paperwork is this;
The silver whispers
Of goldfinches in the morning
The dances of badgers
In the dead of the night
And love.

@stueytheround thanks so much for reading and appreciating them, Stuey. It makes such a difference knowing that they are read x

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matty7w

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