The Dorset Shepherd
Cast in bronze, a-standen strong,
On his crook a-leanen.
There he do bide all day among
The busy shoppers passen.
Cast in bronze, a-standen strong,
On his crook a-leanen.
There he do bide all day among
The busy shoppers passen.
On a Sunday afternoon,
Behold the little fly
Buzzing to and fro,
Who knows where, who knows why,
Sadly oblivious to
The chicken’s beady eye.
Suddenly, snap!
Fly becomes snack!
Such is the short life of a fly!
Screaming, snarling, yelping, yowling,
Crashing and lashing in the undergrowth –
Fox-fight.
Cheerful chirrup above my head,
Bright flashes of yellow and red –
Goldfinch.
Cormorant – perched on a pole,
Alert, erect,
Like a guardsman on duty.
Two proud parents, dressed in white,
Six toddlers, fluffy, grey and cute –
Swans and cygnets.
In the breeze,
Flying, floating,
Dancing, drifting,
Tiny, downy,
tufts of fluff,
Mini-parachutes
Each bearing
A precious package,
A microscopic seed,
Eyes peeled, ears pricked, binoculars at the ready,
We spent a week at Wastor, on the edge of Dartmoor.
The woods were alive with birdsong, dawn till dusk,
So we took up the challenge (as all nature-lovers must)
We made a list!
First things first…
A patch of soft, springy turf,
Hot coffee from the flask,
A chocolate cake bar.