Poetry Blogs (grouse)
Where the fragrant heather moorland borders
wildwood, by the crags above the river,
the harebells and last fading heads of clover
nod themselves to sleep in drowsy August.
The ling is now full-on and tightly ordered
spikes of tiny flowers blanket over
the landscape like an Emperor’s purple toga
swathed across the heights, but thrice more gorgeous.
The fated grouse may look ...
Saturday 18th August 2018 10:31 am
I set off on a ramble through the Forest of Bowland
binoculars at the ready, a bird book to hand.
I hope to see some species that don't breed in the lowlands,
hen harriers and short eared owls, quartering the land.
My list has pipits, crows and jackdaws,
grouse in surplus but no raptors.
I tick off golden plover, curlew and wheatear
but where are the skydancers?
Saturday 5th August 2017 10:48 am