Poetry Blogs (blackbirds)

I sit outside the door

on a slate bench

my back against the cottage wall

in the evening sun

listening to a blackbird sing

the most astonishing sweet notes

In front of me

there is elderflower

honeysuckle

buttercups spangle the uncut grass

and the old larch looms in its corner

beyond the ancient stones of Hafod

which mark my plot

The sun has not long returned

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As the sun beats down

on another glorious day,

the blackbirds are singing

in their sweet little way.

The world is still

and my mind is at peace,

how I pray for this stillness

as it offers such release.

The sky so blue

and clear overhead,

the world still in slumber;

tucked up in their beds.

Dreaming of worlds

with strange designs

and, for now...

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