Rag-tag

A wild patch of Siberian iris capture a cloud of cinnabar moth;
The far ends of the visible spectrum dance together in the light breeze.

Behind the twining clematis

Mahonia tiers; hollied leaf rosettes,
ripened recemes of powdered purple.
Pass a mixed flock flow of admirers:
Ungainly young blackbird, still speckled cape;
House sparrow, and swifter blackcap;
Skulking great tits steal a berry.
At half-harvest, in rising sun.

Disturbed while digging

Rich loam's golden thread,

Live wire; writhes. Not slow, nor worm.

Blinks and glides away.

May be soon

Another Mother takes a stand outside the school. Three and a half legs, she’s stupified by sun. Insect distraction flicks an ear, a lazy tail; sends shivers cross her coat. Her lobsided belly writhes to its own rhythms. Her coterie attend, anticipating magic.

May be

Fresh foal.

Still folded too tightly to stand alone,

Like a new Birthday card.

Leans on its envelope.

Faves

The flutter of an orange-tip
A cuckoo's call
The questing hooks of bracken breaking sod
Ponies, ribs spread, bellies full, with new life
Miniature oak trees on each terminal twig, trailing green flowers
Apple blossom
Dusty gutters
Sunlight
The ghosts of sleepers in the disused railway bed
More cyclists than cars

A new nag

My new fitness watch;

I'm wound up by its nagging.

Funny how times change.