Tuesday, 9 June 2015

The Mere

We arrive to a chaffinch serenade,
And park in the dust with entry paid.
The purple heath smoulders in the sun,
Where vipers slide and rabbits run.
The stonechat snickers, the slow-worm coils,
Beyond the haze, the North Sea roils.
The trees alive with fledgling tits,
Antlions strike from sandy pits.
Below the ridge, the Mere yawns wide,
Ringed by reeds where otters hide.
The bittern booms, the hobby swoops,
Black-head gulls form airy loops.
Harriers glide past squabbling geese,
Avocets nest in watchful peace,
Shovelers bob and terns dip low,
And red deer laze in the Summer glow.
Turtle dove calls from a lofty arbour,
Follow the shore to a sunken harbour.
Pipistrelles spiral in cerulean cool,
Swallows gather where the waters pool.
Charlie and Jin stroll with countenance glad,
Where celebrities gather for their Springtime fad.
Sticklebacks fan over hidden fry,
Under the camera's unblinking eye.
The ruined Abbey squats to our East,
A crumbling relic, a hulking beast.
We welcome Minsmere, forsake all strife,
To bask in joyful streams of life!

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