Tuesday, October 13, 2020

HE SANG TO ME

I’ d only just stepped outside,

when he hopped towards me

like a small child,

greeting his mother.

 

not daring to move,

I said hello,

what do you want?

he tilted his haloed eye

 

and cocked his handsome head,

before bursting into song,

like a rendition of Nessun Dorma,

his crisp tone

speared my heart,

leaving me in awe

that he trusted me enough

to deliver such beauty

in such a captivating way.

 

Blinking  upwards

he almost smiled,

and repeated  his song

before he flapped his wings

and was gone,

leaving me humbled

that he sang especially for me.

 

 


 

 

THE KINLOSS PIGS

Three glorious fields of mud,

alive with happy porkers

snuffling, wallowing, digging,

they trot with wiggling tails,

burrowing into deep, five star straw,

relaxing in welcome sunshine,

but often shielding themselves

from bitter winds in their sturdy igloo dens.

 

Little do they know what joy they bring

on a dull day with leaden skies,

when they poke out those snouts,

or dance with joy when the sun warms their backs

 

such happy, creatures, nurturing young,

delightful, squealing little piglets,

that should be going to town with their

handkerchief sacks, draped across their

backs, like pigling Bland.

 

An adult head, is only just visible

as she wallows, in a glorious well of sticky wet mud,

shutting pretty eyelashes as she doses

and dreams of more sunshine and breakfast tomorrow

 

such is the life of the happy Kinloss pigs.

 

HAVE YOU EVER LOOKED INTO A SEAGULL’S EYE ?

 

Have you ever looked into

a seagull’s eye and thought,

what do you think,

what do you see?

As candy floss clouds

waft silent and free

 

The tide laps the hulls of the

 loose tethered boats,

a soft, restful sound

at the end of the ropes.

 

Creels brightly coloured

form places to hide

for sparrows and wagtails

while herring gulls glide,

 

teaching grey youngsters

to fly and to feed,

it’s time to break free,

but the babies still plead,

 

“come back mum to the quayside”

we don’t want to go,

we’ll just sit here whistling,

til you tell us no.

 

She’s back with a fish

that she wants for herself,

but the youngsters scream loudly

and grab it with stealth.

 

Poor worn out mother,

breaks free to the sky,

have you ever looked

into a seagull’s eye?

 

 

 

 

 

Patsy Goodsir ©    28. 07.17