This is a Disabled Pagan Voices Project Submission
Solstice Morning
The morning of the solstice,
a new moon rose.
Ash clouds hinder the view
as fresh winds blow.
Colder than we`re used to,
as fresh rain freshens the show.
Scarlet rows string,
birds bicker on branches,
juicy, sour, appetising;
Chicks cheap,
begging beneath.
The bird feeder,
full of squabbles,
tiny claws grip and beaks gape;
the rhythmic tinkering,
imitates the bands triangle.
A chill prickle the skin,
At early morning rise;
gently the breeze strokes,
building energy gradually.
The audience of grass and plants,
sway and dance in lines.
As large trees command the stage,
and lead the solstice celebrations.
Far distant,
over the lands,
songs sung,
the fire.
The drums beat,
chants loud,
hands held far yonder.
Amber and sunshine flowers,
lifting their faces high,
in greeting,
as the crisp new day dawns.
SAK-(C)-20th June 2020.
Beach of my Youth.
(Bracklesham Bay)
Sunny sunsets reflect
In
Orange pools on livid seas.
Inappropriately clothed,
Unfazed by tides or weather.
Shelving shingle on the shore,
Rhythmically rubbing rocks,
the tide tickles them together,
And sea birds settle to sleep.
A different dawn with dog,
Grey fogs and sea sifts.
Gone has the spectroscope,
Only the jumble of stones
Show any range of colour,
As the land and sky merge.
A rainy steely grey so loved,
Girl and dog soaked through.
The breeze lifts to a gale,
The sea and groynes mix
Browns, whites shift and row,
Upon the roaring high tides;
Drenching as fascination watches.
Enveloping like huge seagull wings
Over the sea barriers bright whites,
Flapping high in foam,
Covering all below in a flourish.
Fresh mornings bring silver,
Sparkles and whites from above.
Picturesque clouds and surf,
On shimmery shores below
And mirrored reflections.
Resting into blue darkness,
serenity brings dusk.
Fluffy dog now long gone,
The memories still as fresh,
walking silhouettes,
upon the beach of my youth.
SAK-©-12/08/2020.