From time to time I read some of my poems at the Monday singaround rather than singing. Several people have asked if they are available so when Martin found this thread I thought I might put a couple here for people to read if they want to.

The first one is from a series of poems called Yearsong.

November Wood.

An Afternoon in late November.
Church bells ring across the valley
carried on the still air.

Paths frozen hard,
Dusted with frost like icing sugar.
The crack of ice on frozen puddles.

Beside the path a Blackbird scratches up the leaf mould
seeking forgotten grubs
While in the Hazel Brakes a Robin trills
singing his defiance against the coming chill.

Follow the path to the heart of the wood,
To a lake, in summer teeming with life,
Bordered with Bull Rushes and water Iris.
Water Boatmen skim across its surface
and Dragon Flies hover over Lilly Pads
on lazy summer days.
While the sly old Pike lurks,
stealthy,
waiting to catch the unwary
and small birds pipe among the reeds.

But now the lake is silent,
resting in its winter sleep.
Until a stick thrown upon its frozen surface
calls forth a hollow sound.
A Bittern call to break the stillness.

Trees keep their ancient vigil round the lake'
Beech and stately Oak
Silver stemmed Birch and Fair Rowan.
Their branches intertwined
reflecting the setting sun.
A blood red crown of thorns.

Written June 2023