Painting in the air

Over soaring seams of smooth

And finely woven cloth

I stretch out my hand and let my fingers

Touch the undulating run of green

Allowing a single finger to sketch the unfolding line

Of raised and proud gently lurking downland

Hills and meadows

I watch a distant hawk waver on shimmering waves

Of unseen sullen heat

 

Then dropping my hand to sweep across

Beaded heads of knee-high grass

And wild flowers that nod and smile

In welcome repose

I spy between my thumb and forefinger

A slivery moon which I feel I can touch

That I can pluck and pocket

But am immediately distracted by the awkward calling

Of insistent singing birds

The constant chatter of sparrows and finches

Darting between the hawthorn

Bayonets and leaves

 

I feel the creases in my face and neck

Ease as sighing I recline

Laying supine upon a bed of stalk and blade

Giving way to the soft and tinder dry

Scratched earth

And I stare up under

The bow of an ever-young oak

The texture of leaf and bark I want to

Have to hold for always

Now forever fixed in my minds gaze

Along with the egg yolk buttercups and daises

The knots of hardened bushes shaped by wind and rain

The wild wild poppies

That push themselves up between flint and chalk

A crimson dedication a shower beside

Well-worn marked tracks

These signs of summer locked in

To memories past that I recall

With all due fondness for the place of my birth

◄ An island of silence

The way of man ►

Comments

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Martin Elder

Tue 18th May 2021 19:38

Thanks to John Stephen Aviva Holden and royal poetess for liking.
Thanks to Stephen and Keith for commenting
It is much appreciated

Thanks again
Martin

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Stephen Gospage

Mon 17th May 2021 22:00

Yes, it is a wonderfully tactile poem. Improves with each read.

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keith jeffries

Mon 17th May 2021 11:10

Martin,
praise where praise is due. This is one of the best, if not the best poem I have had the pleasure of reading of quite some time. Descriptive verse, so powerful to take the reader to be beside you and marvel with you. Your use of language is superlative indeed.

This is a gem. A poem of incredible beauty.
Thank you for this

Keith

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