Rosie Robin
Think of a country garden and one thing springs to my mind
A sweetly singing little bird of a very special kind
The gardener’s friend with a scarlet crimson breast
Darting from wheelbarrow to spade with very little rest
My friendly loveable robin is always welcome to me
She swoops in to get some worms; she watches me you see
Flitting and hopping from garden cane to flower pot
Patiently waiting for me to dig over the vegetable plot
In spring she nests in unusual places, an old hat or boot will do
I live in harmony with this little bird her trust in me which grew
So dear, as she reminds me of what my mother used to say
That when missing loved ones are near a robin will appear
She remains a loyal visitor as the summer turns to fall
When I feed my little Rosie, I feed a piece of my soul
As the garden turns to white and the leaves drop away
She provides a welcome flash of colour on a crisp winter’s day
Sleepy Little Owls
Deep in the forest on a tree near the sky
there sat three sleepy owls, on a branch way up high
They had flown and hunted all through the night
Until the first songs of the dawns early light
Now here they sit all warm in their feathers
Huddled and cosy all snoozing together
Spirit of the Forest
If you stand very still deep in a forest under the trees
You can feel her presence, there is an energy in the air
She is the Goddess, the ancient spirit of the forest
She protects and nurtures all who inhabit there
She is the earth beneath your feet, the wind in the trees
The wheel of life keeping balance through the turning seasons
In Autumn she changes the colours and blows the leaves
From sparkling gold to rusty browns and shiny coppers
She is the cool breath of Winter as the animals gently sleep
Protecting the land with snow to allow the ground time to rest
Awakening the fragrant earth in Spring as buds burst into life
Bluebells colour the paths and birds emerge from their nests
She is the warmth of glowing Summer sunshine on flowers
The invisible energy in the beat of dragonfly wings
She is the soft rainfall and rainbows full of lazy long hours
Mother Nature, divinity, magic, she is the balance of all things
The Ever-Watchful Fox
With the early pink and golden light of morning comes the dawn chorus
Joyously chirruping harmoniously their own symphony of spring
The birdsong of wrens, thrushes, sparrows and blackbirds fill the air
Primroses emerging with a layer of cool dew glistening on everything
The first bluebells burst like a blue mist on the forest floor
I sink my bare toes into the damp bark and gentle wild blooms
Breathing in the earthy scent of leafy greens and mossy undergrowth
The air is delicate with fresh fragrant wildflower plumes
And there, the Fox stands with intent amber eyes, watching me
With breakfast dangling from her mouth she emerges from the glen
The secret life of the unseen inhabitants of this ancient wood
To observe the marvellous splendour is to be a child again.
The Milk Maids
Deep in the heart of the Cotswolds stands a thatched cottage on Daisy Dale Farm
In summer the pink roses cover the entrance greeting visitors with undeniable charm
They come for the fresh speckled golden eggs that Mrs Potts sells from the garden gate
Her juicy pork pies and pear and ginger crumble are famous at the local country fete
Married after the war, a simple farm life was what they both had in their hearts
Life was hard back then but with love and kindness they got through a difficult start
Even though farming life is hard, Farmer Potts is more laidback than you might think
For his grandfather taught him the secret, he knows happy cows produce the best milk
So, with this knowledge in mind, Daisy Dale was always destined to be filled with milking cows
So, in the first light of dawn the farmer heads to the barn fulfilling his early morning vow
“Good Morning ladies!” He calls with joy in his heart as many black and white heads come into view
“Moo!” They greet him happily, jostling themselves into position they know just what to do
As the ladies line up, he attaches the milkers letting them know its time to let the milk flow
Whistling as he works, calling the cows in turn as they happily run in and clattering out, they go
Filling the jars with their delicious warm milk, some of which goes to their calf’s eager young bellies
After hours of work the farmer heads off for his breakfast grateful to remove his wellies
The cows moo contentedly as they head out to the pastures to enjoy a good natter and a graze
Plenty of time to eat before they are milked again and then enjoy the suns afternoon haze
Slowly another day passes and the farmer heads indoors as stars begin to twinkle overhead
Their busy farming life fills them with contentment as the Potts drift off silently in their cosy bed
Outside the graceful resident Barn Owl hoots as he sits in the rafters of the old dairy barn
Watching over the lovely ladies as they settle down for another peaceful night on Daisy Dale Farm
Turtle Tale
Gliding with ease grazing the ocean floor
Under the cloak of night the sea turtle comes ashore
The task ahead only a mother can endure
Flippers digging the nest to lay her eggs once more
This journey she makes in the summer each year
As she labours her eyes stream turtle tears
Then she covers her eggs returning to the sea
How she navigates her journey is still a mystery
The warmth of the sand shall determine whether
They are females who nest or males who swim forever
The hatchlings are drawn to the first brightest light
Breaking free from a shell under stars shining bright
From the many that are born not all can be saved
It’s a desperate struggle from the beach to a wave
The first taste of salt water abandons all fears
This is how it has been for a million years
The future of sea turtles is in our fragile hands
