Swallows Return

 Spotting one's first swallow of the season is a joy. A glade in Branscombe East Devon, 2015.Sketch Harry Cottey.

Swallow's Return

To chance upon a watery glade and watch the soaring, swooping, darting of forklike wings.

Home from African skies to have their young, insects become sweet nourishment taken on the wing.

And whilst one swallow doesn’t make a Summer, it certainly makes a Spring.

 

Now an Autumn chill sweeps through, and turns the leaves from green. All nature moves, makes ready, Summer days have been.

Fledged and flighted, young take their final fill at the glade, adventures about to begin.

And whilst fifty swallows on a wire doesn’t make an Autumn, surely Winter's drawing in.

Discovering New Places

During Covid lockdown 2020, like many of us, I discovered new places on my doorstep during daily walks. This time Locksbrook Cemetery, Lower Weston, Bath.

 Locksbrook

The high and mighty, meek and lowly

Rich and poor, true and crafty

Young and old, wise and simple

Large and small, brave and timid, the loving and the loveless,

The generous, tight fisted, strong and frail

The expected and unsuspected

 

All come this way, left it all behind,

Welcomed through the gate and up the rise

Behind the wall, those who’ve died

Beyond the hustle and bustle of life and living,

To a tranquil place

 

Underneath the spreading cedar,

Overlooking the cityscape,

Near the rows of veterans

Beyond the dissenters’ special place

The place of tears where birds sing long 

Amongst a maze of monumental, broken down and plain,

Words of those who’ve lived, of loss, of rest and hope to be seen once again.

 

Now back to the gate, not the time to stay 

Reflecting on those who've gone before,

Make the most of today. 

 

Millennial

 During the first Covid lockdown March 2020 my nephew Tom 'sheltered' with us for a few
months. He was great company, we had great chats about life, I learnt some new recipes, and Tom worked remotely all the way through.  Millennial denotes people reaching young adulthood in the early 21st century.

Millennial

So, hey you guys, like I was born? So cool!

 

 

Spring and Easter Lambs

 Covid lockdown 2020 gave plenty of time to take daily walks, reflect. This one came out of watching the lambs on Kelston Roundhill, Bath.

Easter Lambs  

 5, 15, 21....

bleating, running, skipping on the hillside

In the evening sun

 

Resting, racing, returning 

To the mother lode

Nourishment, new life begun

 

In that moment, that very moment sublime pastoral scene,

birds singing, cattle lowing, myriad shades of green

my heart lifts, gives thanks and laughs out loud;

 

But now 5,15,21 come in, your time is up,

for you no sons or daughters

And reflecting on another hillside,

A lamb that went to slaughter

 

 

Spring and Covid

 Spring 2020 beautiful weather, but Covid struck and the first lockdown, our lives changed, the world changed. The new norm hit home when Catherine and queued nearly 2hours to get into the supermarket.  Ruah is a Hebrew word meaning breath/spirit. Isaiah 53.4.

Breath

The Earth breathes out, the world breathes in

Virus takes hold, skies clear, nature springs

 

United against an unseen enemy

Covid 19 lock down enmity

 

At a distance yet closer still

Connecting, discovering, reflecting what fulfils

 

The battle brave on the front line strive 

Patients fight for the ruah of life

 

What's important, what remains

Life will be different, never the same

 

Remember the one who our diseases bore,

In the resurrection makes new, restore.

 

Spring and Easter

 ....And whilst on the subject of Spring, we think of Easter, a movable feast. For many it is a family time, chocolate eggs, getting out and enjoying nature, but for me it also remembers and
celebrates the most important events in history. April 2011.

Spring 

Longing, hoping, planning, looking, digging, delving, sensing, seeing, sowing, planting, transplanting, exchanging, watering, noting, sprouting, greening, growing, budding, bursting, blossoming, blooming,  buzzing, scenting, lambing, springing, zinging, spraying, spawning, misting, clearing, shining, shading, raining, warming, forming,   picking, pulling, cutting, consuming, satisfying

 

Stirring, waking, yawning, breathing, flowing, flapping, flying, running, rushing, cycling, climbing, dating, dancing, mating, promising, playing, laughing, laying,  making,  hatching, matching, despatching, DIYing, building, working, cleaning, creating, recreating, resting, 

 

Pausing....reflecting, cheering, jeering, giving, forgiving, crucifying, dying, crying, lying, evening, morning, resurrecting, dawning, rising, ascending, coming, living,  loving, loving, loving... Spring!

 

Spring inspiration Little Jenny Wren

Spring is such an uplifting time and gives hope of warmer longer days. I have just seen a wren in the garden going to and fro building a nest and reminds me of some lines back in 2013, sketch Harry Cottey.

Little Jenny Wren

Little Jenny Wren, little Jenny Wren

Busy busy little one Spring is here again

 

To and fro to and fro

To the ivy she must go

 

Disappears, reappears

Making sure the coast is clear

 

Builds a nest her very best

Fit for young that she will guest

 

Now sun is rising time is ticking

Everywhere nature’s bidding

 

And Jenny Wren, Jenny Wren

Little Jenny, Jenny Wren

 

Takes her turn on the creator’s wonder cycle

And life begins again

 

The Mary Stanford

On holiday with Simon & Jayne at Winchelsea, East Sussex, June 2008.Sketch Harry Cottey.

The Mary Stanford

Sea and shingle is the story of Winchelsea,

Defence against the enemy, defence against the sea.

Of Martello Towers, Camber Castle, Cinque Ports, groyne,

Where buzzard, bugloss, sheep and salt marsh join.

 

Yet, all alone with poignancy

A derelict lifeboat house I see...

Yes, to see and ponder,

Brave acts, accident, fate and destiny.

 

For on that morning The Mary Stanford boat was sent

To stricken Alice Of Riga bent,

And not knowing that Smyrna had rescue made,

Dear Mary searched upon the waves.

Until, at last sea took all seventeen crew,

Herbert Head, Chas Pope, Henry Cutting but a few.

 

And now at rest in Rye Harbour Churchyard there

One stands in quiet as birdsong fills the air.

My favourite spot- 'Beautiful Bountiful Branscombe'

 To Catherine on her 50th, 2011 celebrated at our favourite spot on the World Heritage Site Jurassic coast at Branscombe, East Devon. This location made the international news in Jan 2007 when the 62000tonne MSC Napoli was deliberately run aground in Lyme Bay.

Beautiful Bountiful Branscombe

Beautiful, bountiful Branscombe

Thatched chocolate box by the sea,

Where time stands still at the Fountain Head,

St Winifred’s and Old Bakery

 

Atop the flinty wooded combes surprise

An airfield and donkey sanctuary,

Nestled below Masons Arms, Manor Mill, Great Seaside

Wind down to the Sea Shanty

 

Smell the salt, hear the sound

Of pebbles against the sea, the sea, the sea,

Branoc ale, crabbers boat,

The Forge and Millers Lea

 

Recall one night high on Hooken Cliffs

In a previous century,

When Jurassic coast gave way to undercliff

As land collapsed to sea

 

But now new drama unfolds before our eyes

For all the world to see,

As beautiful, bountiful Branscombe’s mouth receives

Beached monster whale- the stricken Napoli

 

Spewing oil, vomiting cargo,

Thousands come to see, yes to see

And gorge themselves on plenteous bounty

Salvaged from the sea

 

What went wrong, and who keeps what

Are questions for authority,

But beautiful, bountiful Branscombe’s ever on the map

Because of MSC Napoli

My first poem 'Return Journey'

 My wife Catherine and I  adopted Amelia, our first cat, in April 1985 following the death of my much loved great Auntie Marjorie, a Christian, spinster, Oxford academic. Written November 1988. Amelia was later 'laid to rest near Auntie there'. Over the years cats have been like our children, and who knows we might even see them in heaven!

Return Journey

She was Auntie’s cat,  coming from a learned home where many would visit for deep discussion around the cottage fire, playing Old Maid and eating butter scones for tea.

She was a country cat and an able hunter, stalking to the sound of the church bell, and where even rabbit were fair game. Peace reigned.

But then one day, Auntie passed away. What was to happen to this honourable feline? It seemed no-one wanted her, was she also at death’s door?

She must have prayed as Auntie had taught her, for the ‘Almighty provided’ and new friends were found.

Afraid and crying on a lengthy car journey, then jammed behind a fridge in fear, these were the pangs of a new kind of lifestyle, to a city far from things so dear.

Actually, my name is Amelia Barrass Fox or Meelie to my friends. I am a typical British short haired, but not common you understand. I have whiskers like a walrus and the coat of a panda, and you’ll find me in picture books up and down the land.

I got over the trauma of coming to a city and now I am happy in my new home. And it’s great to know I am a gift from the Almighty to Paul and Catherine who love me so.

But if there is one desire that I have in my furry heart, one secret that I would carefully share….

It is one day to return to the country I came from and be laid to rest near Auntie there.