ode

Woodland

woodpecking echoes the cuckoo’s call
did we hear too the forest trees fall
or could that have been the grumpity roar
of rudely awakened overslept boar?

twit goes the skylark
peep peep sounds the tit
chirping is the chaffinch
rounding all of it
arark screams the raven
above woodpigeons coos
silent floats the sparrowhawk
taking in the view

silent as a falling leaf
or as the fated wren
seen by keen eyes in the sun
it’s eyes won’t see again.

A Poet’s Measure

to write in words like rivers
slicing valleys through the earth
not clumsy engineered canals
that struggle for their worth
to balladeer as nature wiles
and leave the gods in awe
of talent borne from time beguiled
the heavens to applaud
alas my measure leaves vain hope
to paint the earth’s abide
thus, humbly I in simple odes
my fancies pure ascribe.