Black Pudding (1 Viewer)

August almost done and summer curls its brown-edged leaf. Late morning and the dew hangs on. Young Buzzards' mewls echo and drift down from the quarry's face across the ponds where Black Darters rise to the passing feet of fattened lambs.
From the sallows beyond the banks a Willow Tit calls from its hiding. Southern Hawkers and Common Hawkers patrol the waters, and whirlygig beetles spin - mercury beads sliding on the water.
A Lesser Redpoll family descends to the alders as a Moorhen slips from shore to shallows, swimming to rushes and disappearing.
Swallows, suddenly silent, and just within the woods, close enough to touch, a Roe Deer freezes - one hoof raised - head turned head-on and its nose like a still-wet black pudding tastes the sweet summer air.
The call of a passing Yellowhammer chips the silence: the deer starts and slinks into the shadows between the trees.
Back out in the meadows Emerald Damselflies shimmer and butterflies catch the light above the thistles. Berries bright and autumn-ready shine from the hedges. Summer lingers still.

I have missed these! Another wonderfully scripted scene, H.

Thanks, Kits.
I went back there this morning - heard the deer & a Kingfisher but saw neither. A Whinchat & seven Ravens were the highlight today.

Lovely poem Halftwo, Its lovely to be able to reflect and connect with such words, poetry highlights all the seasons they all hold a special time of reflection and you do this very Well in your words, for me poetry is the essense that can bring out the special times we can remember seeing Sometime in our life,s.

Beautiful words, H, which capture so well what you saw :t:

Superb write up Halftwo :gh:

Love your usage of words, and that your use of you English is fabulous.

Just simply to use ones own imagination of all those phrases that you put together so eloquently as you do. :gh:

o

Thanks, all.

I've sent an edited version off to a B&B website which hosts poetry on its website

http://www.peaceandplentyrye.co.uk/

in poem form, and where you can see some more stuff by me. (I'm Richard H on there) (Click on Poets' Corner)

Hope you enjoy.

Here's the poem version:

Black Pudding

August almost done and summer curls its brown-edged leaf.
Late morning and the dew hangs on.
Young Buzzards' mewls echo, drift down from the quarry's face,
Across the ponds where Black Darters
Rise amongst the passing feet of fattened lambs.

From the sallows beyond the banks
A Willow Tit calls from its hiding.
Southern Hawkers and Common Hawkers patrol the ponds,
And whirlygig beetles spin:
Beads of mercury running on the water.

Lesser Redpolls descend, dropping to the alders
As a Moorhen slips from shore to shallows,
Swimming to rushes and disappearing.

Swallows, suddenly silent, and, just within the woods,
Close enough to touch,
A Roe Deer freezes, one hoof raised,
Head turned head-on;
Its nose like a still-wet black pudding
Tastes the sweet summer air.

The call of a passing Yellowhammer chips the silence:
The deer starts and slinks into the shadows between the trees.
Back out in the meadows Emerald Damselflies shimmer
And butterflies catch the light above the thistles.
Berries bright and autumn-ready shine from the hedges.
Summer lingers still.

H

Evocative poetry, H. Very nice.

Thanks, Sue.
It's very autumnal here - I hope we move back to summer before autumn actually sets in.