Allure

The allure of the ocean
calls often to me
whenever I’m taken
away from the sea
So I have to return
as one does for a friend
as its magic and beauty
has no limit or end

Heronswood

I can walk the world in the Heronswood,
I can walk and talk with the horticulturists
and the nature gods. I can meet with cultures
I never knew, the Thalictrum, the Fuchsia,
the Phlox, the Hakonechloa. With my fingers
I can brush the Bishop’s Hat, with my toes

Caught

I am caught in the grip of wonder
The balance and symmetry of mathematics
The glints and sparkles of a spiders many eyes
The shimmering dance of subatomic particles

Day Two (Truleigh Hill to Ditching Beacon)

I guess around this time of year
there really has to be
a shot of bluebells in the woods
for they’re wonderful to see

Transmutation

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Verdant Conveyance

Connecting past with present

Transmutation Sighs

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Perfection in pink

The Clematis against the fence
of the allotment in Ham Field
has many words which might describe
the beauty here revealed

Beauty is…

Beauty is…

The voice of truth
raised in song
accompanied by heart

Beauty Is…

Photo by Doug Hahn

in the silence of a brand new
morning.
Sitting, waiting for the sun – you
absorb
the gentle quiet of dawn, while
secretly

The Time Tonight!

I untied my hair
Swiftly carressed with my fingers
Fell on the bed
Magnetised by the pillow!

Looked up to see
And out of the big window
Ah! What a sight!
I stared and glared!

Of Chincoteague and Longing

You have the makings
Of a mustang, long legs

And long neck. Veins
That bulge in the noontime,

Blue as sapphire under
Moonlight. Your auburn mane

Truleigh Hill in Springtime

On Truleigh Hill in Springtime
everything is splendid
Now that BST¹ is here
with daylight hours extended

Our Unknowing

May our unknowing lead to breakthroughs and growth,

And our impediments inspire songs of gratitude,

Whether sung aloud or only within our hearts.

The Everyday You

I’m in love with the every day you
hair pulled back
and green tennis shoes
blue jeans and tee shirt
under your nails – still – the dirt
from the garden full of roses
in bloom –
I’m in love with the everyday you

And if I thought…

And if I thought the sunset view
was a lovely sight
Just imagine my reaction
when I saw it later at night

Windmill

Sails though empty caught the light
of golden evening sun
as the windmill here at Kingston
was admired by everyone

Seen and found

Sand as far as eye can see
with Brighton to the East
this vista at this time of year
a perfect visual feast

Balcombe Viaduct II

Passing over Balcombe Viaduct
with winter fields down there
The memory of a leafy green
is distant now the trees are bare
Skeletal they stand forlorn
Winter has them in its grip
And it will still be quite a while
‘Til from that vice we’ll see a slip

Pea soup days

It really was a pea soup day
with freezing fog all ’round
reducing visibility
with ice upon the ground
Everywhere was coated white
not from snow but frost
and in the thick and murky fog
it was easy to get lost

Reverie -#DailyHaikuChallenge

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Breathless Glimmering

Beauty Beyond expressing

Reverie of sighs

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Winterberry red

Bright there in the sunshine
Winterberry red
A splash of colour painted
vivid and widespread

Indigo Magic – #DailyHaikuChallenge

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Shadows sing softly

Entreating the frozen heart

Indigo Magic

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The Photographer

My eye in the lens
I capture to see
all of the beauty
here around me

Simple

Flowers bring
simple pleasure
always to be found

Sometimes I can fly

Sometimes I can fly
High above like a bird I soar
and look down to the sea
and the rolling waves
and the white horses galloping there
And I sing

Tapestry – Sonnet 34

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The Shape and Majesty of the Luminous Night,
Sings Splendid Vision to my Questing Sight,
Ever Calling to my Longing Gaze,
In Shifting Shadow and Spectral Haze,

Lily

Dancing on a bed of white
my stamen orange in the light
I really am a gorgeous sight
for any eye to see

Heaven’s Hush – #DailyHaikuChallenge

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Stars softly Dreaming

Beauty so Gently Gleaming

Heaven’s Hush Streaming

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Silence Stirring on the Wing

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Silence Stirring on the wing

As Midnight Tenderly Entrances and Sings;

Whispers of enigmatic lore,