Daisy-like blooms hug the cliffside,
neighbouring thicker bushes and brambles.
Roaring nearby, the ocean leaps
onto the wall, spittle flecks
dousing passers-by,
including ink-cloaked crows and rooks
scanning the area for nibbles.
Affronted by the water’s threatening stance,
these birds take wing,
flapping energetically, gaining hight,
soaring.
Gliding like delicate ice-skaters.
(Except their ‘lake’
is the gusting open,
limitless save for the air’s thinness
and cool touch
if one ventures too high.)
To save energy, they clutch
at ridges on the rock face
with their capable feet,
used to perching
in rough, uneven places.
There they wait in silent council
until the ocean quietens
and the footfall of tourists returns,
dropping stray chips and ice-cream cones
as markers of their passage.
Eagerly, the corvids dive,
snatching what they can
before the gulls gobble up the rest.
This poem is part of a project I’m doing to raise money for the RSPB, a UK wildlife conservation and protection charity. Being autistic, nature is often my only place of solace, and I want to do all I can to protect it. As I’m not very comfortable around other people, most of the standard ways of helping out (volunteering, social fundraisers etc) were not a good fit for me, so I came up with #52weeksofnaturepoetry, where I have to post a nature poem here on this blog each week for an entire year without fail.
If you’d like to help, please share this poem to encourage others to take joy in nature, and if you have the time and means to donate, you can do so here. Let’s help keep our wildlife wild!
(You can also become a member of the RSPB and support them month to month. Members receive Nature’s Home magazine and seasonal guides for what to look out for when out and about. Details are on their website.)
Treeshallow Musings 