#52weeksofnaturepoetry, Poetry

Here, the Dragons – Week 43 #52weeksofnaturepoetry (Fundraising for RSPB)

They’ve a fossil record

dating back

two hundred and twenty million years.

Small, flighty beings

with uniquely faceted eyes.

Zings of colour

punctuating ponds and wetlands,

exclamation marks zipping

from one spot                                                 to the next

as if they possess

the key to portal travel,

hidden somewhere on their slender abdomens

or in the creases

of their complex, veined wings.

Often confused with their damsel cousins,

whose comparatively petite bodies

glitter and spark just as bright.

But here’s a note

for telling these Odonata apart:

when it comes to good rest,

damsels prefer folded wings  –

no need to take up all the room

on those stems.

Though should it turn to a matter

of combat in flight,

you can be sure it’s a dragon;

damsels think little of brawls.

This poem is part of a project I’m doing to raise money for the RSPB, a UK wildlife conservation and protection charity. 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!

#52weeksofnaturepoetry, Poetry

Hare Affairs – Week 42 #52weeksofnaturepoetry (A fundraiser for the RSPB)

You’re likely to have seen their boxing skills

and zigzagging, daring sprints.

If not in person, then captured

in documentaries and photographs;

zoomed in on amber eyes

and tattoo-tipped lengthy ears.

You may have read about their likenesses,

woven into literature and myth.

But, if you were to ask yourself honestly,

how much do you truly know

about brown hare affairs?

A naturalised species,

harking back to Roman times

(possibly before!),

their litters are often frequent,

up to four wide-eyed leverets each,

never to be found in burrows

but shallow, earthy depressions

nicknamed ‘forms’.

Arable fields, grasses, hedgerows –

a mosaic of hares’ favourite spaces –

let’s not forget woodlands, either,

good grazing on young bark!

And those punch-ups they’re known for?

Not the macho tests you might think;

more a lady making her disinterest quite clear

to any amorous suitors.

So, for these serious-faced fluffy runners speeding up to forty-five miles per hour escaping predators,

keep in mind:

attending everlasting tea parties

isn’t the only thing they do.

This poem is part of a project I’m doing to raise money for the RSPB, a UK wildlife conservation and protection charity. 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!

#52weeksofnaturepoetry, Poetry

Spy Me A Lizard! – Week 41 #52weeksofnaturepoetry (Fundraising for RSPB)

‘There, on the step!’ you call. Once again, I miss them. But the botanic garden, with its arranged rockeries, cavernous, thick-rooted trees, stone outcrops and glorious hidey-holes, proves to be their ideal home.

My heels calcify, locking me in place as I trace the ground’s grooves and cracks, locating the lizards’ vanishing point. Holding pose, breath light, I’m rewarded by a sandy brown, scaled nose and tiny, gemstone-chip eyes.

Nothing but a pebble to anyone glancing over. Sweet secret solely for us.

And another, bolder. Hopping – no, leaping – from rock to rock, testing each before settling to bask in the noonday sun. Smaller than I imagined, swifter too. A jerky motion up a still tree or scuffle in ground cover; invisible otherwise, unless you already know they’re about.

Eventually, I drag myself on, wary of drawing too much attention to these tiny, tailed ninjas.

Except, discovering an enormous rock pile, I spot a whole fleet of them: dark and tan browns, brilliant, speckled greens, some even wearing turquoise neck chains. Ranging from short as my little finger to long as my palm. Resting in full sight while others watch from crevices, ready to dart if need be.

Or inspect a hand hovering inches away, curious yet guarded – both human and lizard, for neither know quite how to react.

This poem is part of a project I’m doing to raise money for the RSPB, a UK wildlife conservation and protection charity. 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!