Watching the sudden seagulls in the garden, I wondered what brought
them here as we are miles from any seawater.  We have had  a lot of
flooding water but they’re not interested in that.  Perhaps it seems a
more sympathetic environment but I used to think that if they stayed
too long, the magpies would gang up on them. Now, I’m not so sure
after reading a whole bunch of stories of their extreme aggression during
these pandemic times. A misty afternoon with seagulls like snowflakes and
a ginger cat furious about being kept inside.

ALWAYS OUT THERE

Those seagulls in our garden
Are a long way from water.
Doing what we all do, I suppose,
Looking for a future
Just a little bit better.

© 2019 Gwen Grant

 
WOLF WIND

The wind comes wary,
Like a quiet wolf
Sneaking through the trees,
Watching what’s lying
In front of him.

This house blown down,
That tree uprooted.
The whole of one small town
Wrecked by the wolf wind’s fury.

Except for that little corner
Where Lovers plot and plan
       their glowing future.
Feeling the wolf’s sharp teeth
       nibbling,
They kiss and deny him.
Rap his nose and send him home
        crying.

       ©2021 Gwen Grant

MARCH HARES

March Hares
Boxing in the middle of the big field.
The wide white light of the moon
Tearing shadows into fragments
Of black and white confetti.

These magical creatures,
Owned by witches and wizards,
Bring magic with them.

They are the first to see darkness
Detach itself from the silent hedgerows.
The first to hear hunters
Drop to the cold ground,
To steal the hare’s likeness
For their photograph albums.
Greedy to capture the joyful secrets
Of wild creatures made of magic,
Eyes full of white moonlight,
Ears that semaphore night secrets.

Witches and wizards hiding
In the darkness of fretwork trees,
Balancing on stones in icy rivers.
To scare away those who desire
To see the beauty of March hares,
Boxing in white moonlight.
                  
                     © 2021 Gwen Grant