The Odds on Ducklings…

…are shortening.

This morning I got a little fright. I was walking around our pond as is my custom. When I got to these reeds {photo taken in January} the female wild duck, took off out of them. She was no more than a couple of metres away from me. She landed in the pond and did not swim away. She stayed close.

I turned my back on her and slowly walked away, my heart slightly racing.

This looks like nesting behaviour to me, and it explains why Mr duck has been mooching around that end of the pond every morning. You can’t see her, but you can see him.

This means no more walks around the pond for a month and that should the brood hatch, their first swim will be in our pond.

The thought of wild ducklings swimming in our pond is very pleasant and mildly exciting.

back to life

a subtle hint of pink

a yellow daffodil wink

buds are pressing out


the promise of a surge

that flourish, that urge

the springs elastic return


a promise and an oath

fulfilled again


the bulbs light up the bed

brighter than any electric led


the tide hibernal ebbs away

and a first flow of new begins

smell it fresh in the air


soon the green canvas

will be spattered with colour

no more monochrome


the wagtails are strutting

all Saturday Night Fever

and Staying Alive


the wood pigeons coo

sweet nothings into

their loved-up ears


next the thirsty swallows

will dive bomb the pond

to quench on the wing


Mr Electric Blue

the virulent kingfisher

already whizzing around


coming back to life

with a stretch

and a yawn

Windy Day “Haiku”

Storm Bella is passing by and I am reminded of another Windy Day


Christmas lights tap

the bedroom window

with a breezy urgency


wet weather gear on

many layers in an onion,

the fresh smell of rain


two rivers on a road

brown muddy streams

they carry the stuff of dreams


the pylons play

their Aeolian harps

while consulting oracles


soft leafy carpets

so tender underfoot

hush the urgency out the world


the tenacious mud sucks

at the soles of boots

what a squelch!


white wool on a fence

a startled deer runs!

Tufty, the rain-deer


a squall blows water

into the hair

better than any shampoo


ruddy cheeks glow

now fresher than any mint

a hot soothing bath


Nature is Buddha

and it is we who sleep

or, do we?


the taste of rain

lingers on the tongue,

a drop of eternity


I love the rain

its water cleanses

a superlative most superb.

Bellatrix Lestrange (née Black) (1951 – 2 May, 1998) was a British witch, the eldest daughter of Cygnus and Druella Black, cousin of Regulus and Sirius Black, and the elder sister of Andromeda Tonks and Narcissa Malfoy. She was a member of the House of Black, an old wizarding family and one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Bellatrix started her education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the early sixties (either 1962 or 1963), and was Sorted into Slytherin House.

My Dawn Prize

walking in the gloom

just before dawn

with a cigarette and a cough


down by the étang

new nocturnal signs

pressed fresh

into the long, wet grass


silently I scan the water

with my hawk eyes


the lily pads shimmer

something there?


excitement grows

another unwelcome cough

and a duck flies startled


then suddenly

breaking away

a pair of otters!


one heads directly

towards me

only metres away now


he sees me

and most nonchalantly

swims away


from the other bank

she watches me

I watch her


time and the universe suspended


I don’t want to scare

so, I turn

back to the house

I claim

my dawn prize…