A poem

A fitting start, soop

Is it possible to add a photo? That would be a bonus.

It doesn't look like it, Soop. Keep hinting, constant dripping wears away stone.

Elegran...methinks we've two Nature whatchamacallits on the go. Can't have too much of a good thing.

It gets confusing, doesn't it? I have just replied to you on the other one.

This is the Nature forum. The other one, as Elegran said, was the one requesting it.

I'm sticking with this one. Yep, photos please, when tech. has recovered from thatbags flapjacks and my gin.

soop I second when's comment.

finocchio

My very favourite Byron quotation. Thanks for the reminder, soop.

From hearing the first cuckoo we’ve had sunshine every day
To watch the swoop of swallows and wish that they could stay.
The pretty little long tailed tits delighted us once more,
And buzzards soared on thermals where they’ve not been seen before.
No further signs of Ash disease to decimate our trees,
And as our gardens flourished we watched anxiously for bees,
The butterflies arrived en masse to seek out favourite plants,
While crested grebes on water gave their heart shaped mating dance.
Our orchards bulge, our hedgerows swell – a bounty free for all,
To fill up nature’s larder before winter comes to call.
We’ve had a blazing summer, with hardly any rain,
So next year, Mother Nature, can you do it all again?

Hear hear merlotgran

Just a bit of homespun stuff

THE CALL OF THE WILD

The moo of a cow,
the bleat of a lamb,
the grunt of a pig,
before it's turned into ham.

The hiss of a snake,
the blip of a bat,
the howl of a wolf,
the miaow of a cat.

The gobble gobble of turkeys,
the honk honk of a gander,
does anyone know,
the call of a panda?

The coo coo of a pigeon,
the screech of an owl,
a cacophony of sound,
from all the wildfowl.

The cluck of a hen,
the quack of a duck.
we'll have them for dinner,
if they run out of luck.

The bray of a donkey,
the bark of a dog,
wouldn't want to hear those,
if I was lost in the fog.

The roar of a lion,
the squeak of a mouse,
the croak of a frog,
the squawk of a grouse.

A hyena laughs,
an elephant trumpets,
can't wait for tea,
(you've guessed it) we're having crumpets.

I could go on,
but I'm beginning to flag,
so I think I'll end up,
with the bellow of a stag.

I like all the poems. Thank you for sharing. I took a photo of rose hips this afternoon. No poem to match them, but I shall share the image instead.

...and for good measure, last night's stunning sunset.

I will make you brooches and toys...
Robert Louis Stevenson

I will make you brooches and toys for your delight
Of bird-song at morning and star-shine at night.
I will make a place fit for you and me
Of green days in forests and blue days at sea.

I will make my kitchen, and you shall keep your room,
Where white flows the river and bright blows the broom,
And you shall wash your linen and keep your body white
In rainfall at morning and dewfall at night.

And this shall be the music when no one else is near,
The fine song for singing, the rare song to hear!
That only I remember, that only you admire,
Of the broad road that stretches and the roadside fire.

That brings back memories soop. I had RLS's "A Child's Garden of Verses" when I was quite small. I loved it but the only one I can remember starts off ,
The rain is raining all around '
It falls on field and tree.
It falls on the umbrellas here
and on the ships at sea.

Not such a beautiful image I'm afraid.

dustyangel I like your poem. I shall try to find it in my anthology.

The Peace of Wild Things......Wendell Berry

When despair grows in me
and I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting for their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

One of my all time favourties, soop. It always brings tears to my eyes, in the same way that some music can.

TOAD ...^Norman MacCraig 1910-1996^

Stop looking like a purse. How could a purse
squeeze under the rickety door and sit,
full of satisfaction, in a man's house?

You clamber towards me on all four corners -
right hand, left foot, left hand, right foot.

I love you for being a toad,
for crawling like a Japanese wrestler,
and not being frightened.

I put you in my purse hand, not shutting it,
and set you down outside directly under
every star.

A jewel in your head? Toad
you've put one in mine,
a tiny radiance in a dark place.

I've copied this poem for thatbags

Soop - I have asked that the Wedell Berry be read at my funeral and the last line be my epitaph. It is a splendid poem.

soop The Peace of Wild Things is a beautiful poem. one that I've not heard before. Thank you for sharing it

It is a lovely poem. But I think the operative word there is lonely . I love man over nature. Not the other way about.