Daisies! (two) - Spring!

Today's fire kindling is more dry stalks
Of last year's red campion,
Sage twigs, astilbe stalks, dry grasses,
And stuff the starlings drop
From their nest hole in the eaves –
Wiry, rough grass, pampas perhaps
From a clump down the hill.
And there are twigs
Blown off the old cherry
In the easterlies
Bringing dryness to the wet west,
And making the house hum
Like a bee.

- Nice having kindling that doesn't need chopping and splitting!

Westerlies giving us a real blow around today, interspersed with fleeting, heavy showers.

Bags will you ever gather all these poems together at all? I'd love a copy. Think of it as charity to those of us stuck in the frozen north, needing to dream about spring!

A hazy day of misty grey,
Soft diffused sun all gold,
Bright and light on dead dry grass
And old gold holly leaves.
Across the field a heron flies
And lands in a forest of rush.
Brown winter larches changing now
To an almost orange glow.
Greening soon, greening soon.

Marvellous

Dunnocks tend to skulk around ground level although do go to bird tables. They don't flock with sparrows. The blackbird trio may well be one from last years brood! not sure - I don't think they do the dunnock thing.

Bags, I love your poems, they paint an authentic picture for me. Very evocative.

Broomsticks, we have a tiny garden, about 5 metres square but we have a number of avian visitors, oddly enough usually solitary.One bird I thought a sparrrow turned out to be a dunnock. It is the same size , but creeeeeeeeeps around on the ground, it is more the shape of a small nuthatch than a sparrow & darker.

We had a lovely troop of titmice before the snow, I hope they survived.

Bags Your poem is beautiful.

Pearl grey whispy cloud
Float above a pewter sea.
Islands hide behind a veil
Through which the ferry glides.
Oystercatchers upturn pebbles
As the tide drifts in
And leaves again...

Butty, Bags and Soop. I wish I could write poetry but I enjoy yours anyway.

Thank you, broomsticks

Butty, Bags and Soop
Like making poetry oop.
The notice things
And write them down
And then can't find
A rhyme that fits the end.

Bags you've just summed up my own attempts at poetry writing.

Bags
Oops... you are a "tinker boots"

Keep at it, dusty! Non-poems can be just as much fun .

Third line should be they not the...

Lost the rhythm too

Thanks broom.

B

Cuckoo, cuckoo!

Is that so, Butty?

Do you know, I was thinking about cuckoos earlier today. Nice you have heard one, butty. It's usually early May before we hear them here.

You could almost start a summer thread on the strength of that, butty!

Yes soop. Late this afternoon, after a day of rain, rain, rain. Celebrating that the rain had stopped perhaps.

Last one I heard was on Torcello 12years ago.

New snow on the hills overnight, so not quite summer here yet.
Three roe deer in the garden this morning, eating honeysuckle buds. I wonder if they've found my parsley yet?

A baby donkey has just been born in the field up the lane. Tender new growth. Beautiful.

It's not a donkey - it's a gorgeous baby mule because the mother is a beautiful brown mare.