A Day of Hope in Haiku
Enveloping dark,
Cover in silky blackness.
Rising moon brings light.
Stars punctuate night.
Sharp pin-pricks of white spread ‘cross
the vast void of space.
A change in the light.
Creeping sun rises, chasing moon
from vision. Day dawns.
Expectant heads turn.
Celandines look to rising sun.
Follow ‘til sun down.
Sounds of the day start.
The dawn chorus harmonies
ebb and flow like tides.
The cuckoo calls out.
Interrupted by drilling
woodpecker, hunting.
Resplendent in his
Finery, pheasant struts his
stuff, looking for love.
Day continues on.
As the sun bows down, twilight
arrives again. Night returns.
Enveloping dark,
Cover in silky blackness.
Rising moon brings light.
By Penny Leck, Loweswater
Darkling Stands the Tree
Darkling stands the tree
In the corner of my garden
Gatepost to the fells
Guardian of my soul
And more
Refuge of rook, pigeon and tree creeper
Still stands my tree
And on this night
Stirred by the faithful hooting of the owl
Ever reassuring me of a love that was lost
Rising from my bed
Drawn to the window
Let in the cool night air
Shining stands my tree
Heaven’s stars cascading
Into her branches
Each filigree twig incandescent
Exploding into the radiant sky
Becoming part of one united, dazzling aura.
Trembling I stand
False cares dissolve
Shining stands my tree
Darkness overcome.
Lorton Resident
Milk white moon
Cradled in stars cascading
Watch over my child
Lorton Resident
Flying Crooked by Robert Graves
The butterfly, the cabbage white,
(His honest idiocy of flight)
Will never now, it is too late,
Master the art of flying straight,
Yet has — who knows so well as I? —
A just sense of how not to fly:
He lurches here and here by guess
And God and hope and hopelessness.
Even the aerobatic swift
Has not his flying-crooked gift.
From the Herdwick point of view.
And I wouldn’t eat that no matter what!
Hay, hay? Who would lower themselves to eat hay?
I have most of my teeth and use them for grass
And as for cyack!
Well…
Even with no teeth, I wouldn’t eat that!
Who are these people that offer this fare?
They know nothing of me
I am after all a superior being
I am proud and fiercely independent
This fell-living malarkey isn’t for the faint hearted
Life may be short but…
No need for hay and no need for cyack
Challenge is what I like
Freedom is what I seek
Walls, what are walls?
Merely a heap of stone to be vaulted
Not to entrap,
I’ll have none of that.
I’ll ratch round my heft
Eat the sweetest grasses
I’ll ignore the walls, never eat hay and refuse to be insulted with cyack.
I’m far too grand for all that!
Lorton Valley Resident
Herdwick Character.
There is no such thing as a stupid sheep
Only a stupid person would say such a thing
You’ve just got to understand her logic and ask…
“Is it wise to be trapped in a corner?”
Of course not!
So don’t expect to corner her.
Wise is what she is.
When you see her quietly admiring the landscape
do not be fooled.
Even without GPS or a compass she know exactly
Where she is
Where the rest of the flock is
Where you are
Where the wall gaps are
And where the dogs are
So…
Who is stupid?
Lorton Valley Resident
Night, Light
A terror of the dark when I was four
Brought crawling creatures all around my bed;
I’d lie awake, await the tiger’s tread,
Smell spiders crammed behind the wardrobe door.
And lightless dreams would bring the monster’s roar
With nothing there to see outside my head;
Imagined movements filled my mind with dread,
Each touch upon my hand a threatening paw.
But now, for me, the dark must be complete:
No digital device, no glaring screen;
To sleep, I need the absence of the light;
No passing cars, no lamplight from the street;
No glimmering moon or starlight to be seen;
The darkest sky will give the perfect night.
John Scrivens
On Parting and Not Parting
We were not granted the gift of parting
But we were given love.
Separated by oceans’ waves
Surging through my veins
Came your release
And such a sense of peace
As you slipped away.
We were not granted the gift of parting
But we were given love.
No tender kiss
No holding hands
No gentle words
No ‘fare thee well’
What words?
You knew them all.
We were not granted the gift of parting
But we were given love.
They say that when
The final moment comes
That we must go alone
But this I know for true
I knew the very moment when you went
In my dreams I held you
And waking let you go.
And still you call
In nights’ small hours
A song on the wind
Of fluted, wooded, hooting notes
Falling like dew to soothe my grief
Liquid stardrops to lighten my darkness
Gentle owl
I thank thee.
We were not granted the gift of parting
For parted we are not
Your very love is part of me
And I am part of you.
This love lives on
And holds me fast
And will not let us go.
For we were given the gift of love
Love eternal
By a Lorton resident
The Plough
His swollen feet straddle fresh torn ground
Tracing ancient lines
Watchful eyes search the sky’s familiar forms
The Plough, constant and comforting
Present but unseen when that earth was formed
Pip
***
Sale Fell
Sky heavy with stars
Jostling bats accompanying
We feast together
Pip
***
Leonids
Meteoric dust
Amid stellar camouflage
Darting mouse of light
Pip
***
A bright winter night
With Orion as my guide
I search for the dog
Chris
***
Each night the Great Bear
Ploughs eternally westward
Hunting the lost sun
Chris
***
Daylight is no use
only in darkness stars show
to comfort the frail.
Anon
***
Enveloping dark
covers in silky blackness
the moon brings the light.
Penny Leck
***
Night search under trees
Lamb to feed; owl’s silent swoop
His wing brushed my cheek.
Anon
***
Life is like black sky
Brightened with shimmering stars
How joyous is that?
Anon
***
The hills hold the dark
In still silent suspension
Awaiting the dawn
Anon
***
Man’s light steals black night
And those pin pricks of true light
Gifts from stars far away.
Anon
***
