The geraniums are in
And the logs are piled high,
The chestnuts are gathered
And across the grey sky
The wild ducks are flying
Away, away,
We’ll come back in Springtime,
Some day, some day!
1987
Category Archives: Seasons
Late Autumn
In corners where no willows grow
I rake up willow leaves and know
The winds are set for winter.
Oh, The frenzy of their final blow
Before the stillness of the snow!
18 November 1991
Three thrushes in the lane
Three thrushes in the lane
Looking at the ivied
Wall of the front garden.
“Rare sight,” we both exclaimed.
Two hardly moved when we
Drove past into the yard,
The third took fright and made
A low level flight deep
Into the hawthorn hedge
Where he was quickly lost
In the white May blossom.
I have a homing instinct for the stars 
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