Escape into nature

Winter arrived today.

Frost on the ground, sealing the pond. Chill seeping into my bones.

This is the time when the garden goes still, packs up, closes down.

Or does it?

I step out to see if anything survives

And find Robin song, sparse in verse, but pure and clear.

Then a blast of blue tit bling.

As blue as the Teucrium, which is holding on still.

A Heron lumbering out of the mini-meadow is as surprised to see me as I him

I find old friends, too – the Earthstars have erupted near the woodpile again.

I stand awhile, allowing hidden souls to reveal themselves

Tthe flick of a furtive Dunnock, the whirr of Wren.

Flies cluster on the oak trunk – always their perch when they need the sun.

Crew-cut halos grace the Teasel heads.

And I ponder the Oak, still largely in leaf. Is that late, or does it always try to cling till Christmas?

A Crow overhead rasps, a guttural call that talks of danger, annoyance.

Sure enough, it heralds a Buzzard, to be jostled and harassed.

And with that, a half-hour is happily gone.

No thought of Russia, or the cost of living, or whether England will beat France.

I’ve even forgotten the cold in my fingers.

I’ll return tomorrow, for my next escape.