The cycle

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The cycle

A cathedral of colour,
palette of yellow,
brown, golden, red,
mellifluous, mellow.
Impatiently shaking
her clothes from their frame,
keen to renew,
recommence, start again.

As each chirpy season
accedes to a fresh,
she herself swells,
yet fades with each breath.
In a blink, it's the bole
must make way for another,
sedately decay,
giving back to earth mother.

Fall

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Fall

I bud,
unfurl
and leaf.

Then would
I curl
and leave.

Natural healing

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Natural healing

Gaudily-coloured, thoughtless litter,
a twisted, traffic-soiled tree.
The neglected house
with it's burglar-challenging boarding.
A slovenly parade
of prematurely closed shops.
The pushchaired child
in a tissue thin frock
and summer wellingtons,
gawping
at a passing hearse,
its occupants
a study in collective grief.

Suddenly,
a Blackbird,
dark as jet,
with a beak
the colour of school custard,
hops down
onto a knuckled branch,
opens his throat
and sings
the first few notes
of his honeysuckle song,
lifting my soul
and I know I will make it
through another day.

The cuckoo

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Squatters

A cuckoo's a lazy old soul,
never bothers with building at all,
turfs eggs from their nest, dirty rotter,
a delinquent, and troublesome squatter.

Spends her whole life on free benefits,
expects others to raise, feed her kids.
This mother may sing a sweet song
but something, somewhere has gone wrong.

A question of size

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A question of size

To my surprise,
a seed is the size,
to hold a tree.
Well, goodness me!

Death of a bee

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Death of a bee

The miniature tiger
lay perfectly still,
frosted wings motionless,
quite clearly ill.
We all have to die
but I still had to try.
I laid the poor creature
on the old water feature,
hoping that drinking
would stop her from sinking,
but this beautiful thing,
the size of my thumb
nail, breathed her last breath
and sadly succumbed.

Abuse

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Abuse
Nature
is a fragile old woman
whose mature beauty,
makes us
gasp in wonder
and whose abuse
at the hands
of her inept, juvenile carers
has us weep
bitter, impotent tears.

A mother’s love

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A mother's love

To watch a tigress
with her new cub,
is to truly observe
real power,
the power of love.

The butterfly

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The butterfly

The breath on a mirror,
a whisper in the breeze,
ephemeral, ethereal,
susurration of leaves.

Kaleidoscope of colour,
athletic like agility,
breathtaking, scintillating,
sugar spun fragility.

Green

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Green

The colour of grass, of leaves, fresh limes
Rebirth, renewal and hopeful times.
Green for go, for yes, for caring,
Issues environmental, sharing.

It is growth, it's nature in all its glory.
New shoots telling a different story,
Jealousy, envy, so no surprise
That green is the colour of your beautiful eyes.
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