Sunday, 6 April 2014

Rear Window

Though raindrops splash my window pane
And clean the cobbles in the lane
I notice on the nearby tree
A little bird - he sings for me.

Proud sentinel, he scans the scene
The snow has gone, the fields turn green
No leaves disguise his look-out perch
And impede his panoramic search.

A gentle wind, the branches sway
He flies discreetly on his way
While others of a brighter hue
Soon take his place and watch anew.

The white horse lingers by the fence
I see the empty lovers' bench
But no one stops by on their walk
To pass the time of day and talk.

My gaze falls on the terrace wall;
The wisteria, which loves to crawl
With purple bunches all in flower
Lies sleeping and awaits its hour.

But soft, from nowhere I can see
The blue tit flying back to me.
He lands with grace right in my view
The terrace can get busy too!

For those who take the time to look
And listen, nature is a book
In constant use, whose illustrations
Bring us daily revelations!

(c) Poet in the woods 2014

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