1484

Our garden's at it's best at Lammastide.

The burst of Spring has eased itself away

The hectic Summer growth has settled down

The beds are mellow, softened at the edge,

Colours calm yet eager to entice

A drone of bees and pairs of butterflies.

The pond lies empty, even the late frogs

Have disappeared into the undergrowth.

Our daily visitors peck casually at the grain

Or sit atop the fence to bask away

Untroubled moments in the teatime sun.

Sweet peas and hollyhocks try to outshine

The runner beans, the sun flowers by the fence.

A pair of cabbage whites dance near my head

Oblivious to my presence and delight.

            I sit untroubled, resting in the peace

            Which, like your love, I know need never cease.

Brian Hick August 2015

©copyright Sally Hick 20.7.26

 1475

The pigeons and the squirrels get along.

Below the garden wall a young squirrel

Forages for seeds

Stopping when she finds one

Alert to any competition

Then

On hind legs

Sits and eats.

A lazy wood-pigeon

Waddles down the path

Pecking aimlessly at anything

Which comes in view,

Back to back

They ignore each other

Only concerned when foreigners -

Magpies casing the garden

Humans putting out seed -

Interrupt their placid

Acceptance

At which point they disappear

But not for long

Having more in common

Than we with them.

Brian Hick June 2016

©copyright Sally Hick 17.6.26

 1345

During the storm the birds had disappeared

But this morning a blue tit fluttered through,

Stopping briefly at the coconut,

Before it dived across the hedge onto

The barren branches of the only tree

Left in our garden.  It soon flew away

But a pair of blackbirds swooped down to the fence

Eyeing the line of seeds, but did not stay.

A sparrow landed, flustered, hesitant

Then two wood pigeons dropped onto the shed

'Til, singly, they pecked their way along the rain

To find the sesame seeds among the bread.

            Spring seems a long way off but this quiet morn

            Life returned with birdsong in the dawn.

Brian Hick February 2014

©copyright Sally Hick 24.3.25

 Ringlet

The large white, in perpetual motion, skims

Edgily across the falling roses;

The ringlet stands upon a privet leaf

Static as if dead, then springs away.

Taunted into action by the white

They spiral up towards the holly tree

'til both are lost from sight beyond the beach

And solitude descends on me again,

Inertia pins me to this seat, while they

Seem triggered by a sense of purpose I

Should feel but don't, relapsing into silence

And a void suppressing all creative thought.

          Day by day the garden waits for me

          But my mind does not want me to be free.

Brian Hick

©copyright Sally Hick 7.10.22