Bereavement Counselling from Murdoch of Blackbyres - by
Listen, back in ‘74
I shot a crow with such force
its body cannoned into its partner,
dropped the pair from the sky.
birds
The Second Coming - by
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
The Wren’s Nest - by
The Robin cam to the wren’s nest
And keekit in and keekit in.
yellowhammer - by
Box work
Lord of All - by
He is the lord of all he surveys, eventhough it is not that much, less than an acre of lawn and a handful of trees. Still, he likes to keep his beady eye on things, his feathery finger on the pulse. Even if just a single sparrow stirs, he likes to know about it. You […]
excerpt from Farm by the Shore - by
small oats rye bere barley
ripe harvest in late summer
a shallow ploughing
grazing and fallow in rotation
To Margaret on a Monday - by
I saw you from my window, Margaret.
/ I was watching the seagulls swooping the sky.
/ The seagulls, I was telling myself, know
/ today…
Still - by
Not crow, eyes calculating
/ my speed, the distance, his time
/
/ not blackbird or thrush
/ in a startled trajectory of flight
/
/ not pigeon, undecided…
The Scribe Under the Trees - by
In the trees above me
/ The blackbird sings
/ As I sit here at my table
/ With my books and my writing things.
/
/ A…
When Grey Shapes Slip the Shadows - by
When grey shapes slip the shadows of the morning
/ My small birds sit in silence in the eaves
/ But daylight brings indifferent…
The Late Swallow - by
Leave, leave your well-loved nest,
/ Late swallow, and fly away.
/ Here is no rest
/ For hollowing heart and wearying wing.
/ Your comrades all have…
What Is It Like To Be A Herring Gull? - by
After Thomas Nagel*
/
/ Circling the heavy church at the end of the street,
/ they see a cliff-stack above a grey Atlantic,
/
/ an inherited…