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What can I notice
From up here in heaven?
The world is too far away
Lost in its hazy day
And the blackbird's beautiful song
cannot reach me here
I am in suspense
And the world
slowly turns without me.
To call out a name
Is to conjure its presence
Nutmeg, cinnamon
Sugar and spice.
Perhaps today I am the skylark
The tiny speck of dark matter
Drifting to the sun
My heart full of song
And trembling
Like the blossom
On the greengage tree

Snow-blossom
On the fragile greengage
Glowing white
On the soft edge
of a grey day
For seven years
I have waited
And now,
just when I am leaving
You choose to flow
To sing your perfect song
And we,
We always knew
it was always there
all along.
The skylark rises in the grey
And ushers in a gentle day
The Curlew calls as if to say
Come with me,
But I'm already far away.

A single Lapwing
Dancing in a silver sky
No other witness
To his beauty
But dancing anyway.
I turn for home
And notice you
Close by
Rising from your mossy rest
Shaking with the might of song
A full five minutes
I watch you sing and climb
A tiny speck of dark matter
drifting to the sun
I feel the lightness of your song
Too high to hear
And your tear-blinded music
Is held gently in my heart

A pewter sky
Lilac banded
Silver sun
Smiling at the daffodils
Smiling at me
A Skylark pair competing
empty their tiny hearts
Of tinkling song
Rise to face each other
A hint of menace in their trills
Each sings over the other's phrases
Singing as if song could kill
Settling at last and still
As the lonely Curlew
Flutes his lonely call
Echoing across the hill

And the whole of the choir attended
At the top of the hill
Beyond the final bend,
Just where the broken road
Was mended
There, where I see the barn owl
With gentle eyes.
The Curlew is calling
The skylarks, falling from heaven
With the sweetest song
The golden plover,
modest in his finery
And the snipe,
winnowing soft in the grey

I saw you,
as if in a dream
Beautiful in your fragility
Wings soft swimming
In bright broken air
Eyes like moons
Shining in still waters
On a clear night
A sweet meeting
Your eyes on mine
Locked together
In a kind of wild love.
The skylarks in my heart
Sing sweet serenades
Over the moor today
And bold wheatears
Have returned for their gold
Primroses glow
Milkmaids blow
And daffodils sprinkle
celandine shadows
All along the hedgerow

April showers
Shy primroses turn their faces
Away from the wind
Wild air makes music
Humming through the wood
And whistling though walls
Sheep hunker down
In the lee of the hill
And hope for clement weather
A gale-blown Curlew
Calling low
Lights in the sun
By a silver stream flowing
Shines almost white
In the bright morning light

Three gentle silver suns
One the brightest
All mirror-shining
From a mackerel
Quicksilver sky
Soft air, almost tropical
Warm to the touch
The sound of Curlew
A gliding bubbling
Lonely call,
Falls to where
the lemon primrose glows
Blackthorn bears
Her snowy blossom
Blowing gentle sweetness
Lightening the day
With honeyed breath
I breathe it in
And fill my heart with hope.

I would risk it all
Just for a glimpse
Of the full moon rising
Over silver water
With you.
The wildest moments
On the softest edge of beauty
When everything I dreamed of
Came true
2/2

The Raven calls
With sombre notes
While other crows
Envy his sleek darkness
And mock him
From a distance
Geese move
With spectacular haste
Across the blue grey morning
Calling wildly
as they go
Three roe deer does
Alert, alive to peril
Still for a moment
On the meadow
Then bound away
Over the wall
To disappear
in brush and heather
White tails reveal
Their graceful leaps
Run towards
The rising sun.
1/2

Mist
And the world hides
behind soft corners
Edges are blurred
And sounds spring to life
A skylark sings
Perched on the very top
of the whispering sky
Notes falling
like soft rain on my face
A Curlew pair
Dance to their own songs
Bubbling like brooks
Below the tinkling lark
There's water falling
All around me
Swimming in enchantment
And the music
Of the moor

@allin you are right, they are beautiful birds, skylarks. I like to think that they find their own perches, high in the sky, and sing from there.

Wet and cold
A heavy fog
The visible world
Just the first field.
I'm buoyed by the beauty
I cannot see
But which feels so close.
I smell the scent
Of the spice of spring
Wafting from enchanted places
Down in the woods
Where wild garlic grows
Chaffinch pinks happy
on the ghost of a thorn
And my beautiful skylark
Falls from the sky
like an autumn leaf
Out of the clouds
On to the greening meadow.

I can see the light
From the valley below
Through the veil of mist
Embracing me.
Earliest springtime
Blackthorn in blossom
Daffodils glow golden
and nod their knowing heads
Towards the hidden sun
And the patient Heron waits
Beside the silent pool
Full to the brim
With winter water
Skylark music
All along my way
And my heart bursts
With spring song
It will not be long
'til the swallows come

Holiday weather
Grey and rainy
The northerly wind
Brings a winter chill
All the hilltops are hidden
I notice the hum
Of the wet road
And the Robin
Singing on his gate
Theres a beautiful duet
High on the moor
Where the lovely skylark
Descending gently
Sings her falling song
As the Curlew rises
With his wild call
Away through the mist
And up to clear air above.

Yesterday's was Easter weather
Deepest blue and shining gold
I'm riding in the clouds today
But time is on my side.
A roebuck stands
At eyes-meet,
on the very edge of mist
A spectre, dissolving.
Today, daffodils are my glorious sun
Smiling at me
from the ditch
Skylark, my skylark
Sing a song for me
from the very top of the sky
And as the shroud lifts
And you are descending
You lift my heart
With your music.

Beautiful
A shining morning
Silver meadows
Sharp edges
Sunlight glinting
From sparkling water
And the hill is alight
Skylarks have hushed their singing
For a moment
And have declared their love
At last
Dancing low
Over the tussocky bog
Following each other
In tiny spirals
Settling now
At peace.

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matty7w

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