You can see the art that inspired my poem and read all the other contributors’ poems on Paul Brookes’ blog here.

Time passing

Here, the spring is almost over,
blossom gone, flown, leaving nests
full of soft-petaled chicks.

The winds have grown tender,
a mere murmur among new leaves,
and the nights are full of stars.

I watch the bustle of life, the bird-comings
and goings, hare-dance and deer grazing,
colours in the grass growing,
and I listen to all the singing of this earth.

I watch through the window,
from the first pale gold to the deep pink of evening,
the turquoise inking deeper dark,
the first stars swim to the surface of the sky,

and listen as the last bird finishes his song,
thinking of you, wherever you are.