Nature – Writing for Freedom

The Little Fish

A fungi and a little fish got talking one day.

You’ll never believe what the pair had to say.

I don’t know about you, but what about me?

I’m out the back door and I can’t see the sea.

Don’t be sad, little fish. You’re really a fungi.

The little fish smiled and let out a sigh.

I thought I was tripping but I’m just a clown

Now my whole world’s turned upside down.

I need a seat can you bring me a toad stool?

I can’t believe I’ve been such a blind fool!

Two heads it seems really are better than one,

So let’s have some fun and dance in the sun.

Don’t worry my friend, I don’t need mushroom,

We can party under the stars and the moon.

Don’t be shy. Go for it. Just take a chance.

Stick the tunes on and let’s have a dance.

Does anyone know what type of fungi this is? I tried to find it using google and some of the identifier apps but had no luck.

The in-love birds

Majestically they fly,

Soaring, diving, chasing,

Playing hide and seek

Before coming together

To sit atop the branches,

Chattering to each other,

In freedom, joy and love.

Magpie

Sunny Side Up

When the Pink Moon rose

And the world turned

Sunny side up,

the songbirds sang louder,

calling me at night

and serenading the day

A celebration of life

An expression of joy,

Of nature,

a call of the wild,

To listen, to breathe,

To love, to rejoice, to sing,

To stop and appreciate

The simple things.

The Limited edition yellow vinyl of ‘Sunny Side Up’ by Paolo Nutini is out now! https://lnk.to/Sunny-Side-Up

The Butterfly Returned

The butterfly returned

This time in a dream

It sought me out

Not just passing by

It was bigger now

I know it sounds crazy

but she seemed to understand

To remember me from before.

She rested on my finger

Outstretching her wings

For me to see,

She seemed to be asking

“Do you remember me?”

She paused for a moment

Then danced before my eyes

Showing me the other side

And then I realised

She’s showing me it’s her

That we’ve met before.

I smiled in recognition

and together we danced

in the wonder of it all.

Forever Yew

Yew

tree, layering,

enticing; the curious,

the seeker to contemplate,

signs, rebirth is always occurring

and that even decay can herald

the birth of new life.

As the cycle continues

and the circle

remains unbroken

forever.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Craigends_Yew

The Oystercatcher

In heraldry the bearer of the Oystercatcher is said to be shy, yet vigilant, and always on the alert.

The Oystercatcher is the national bird of the Faroe Islands, in Faroese called “Tjaldrið”.

In Connaught, the oyster-catcher was known as Giolla Bride, Bride’s Page.

Brighid, Goddess of the Poets, Ironworkers, and various agricultural practices.

Among the Gaels this bird is an emblem of St. Bride, who carried one in each hand. It bears the form of a cross on its plumage as it once covered Christ with sea-weed when his enemies pursued him. It is called Brid-eun, ‘Bride’s Bird’ or Bigein-Bride, ‘Bride’s Boy’, in Gaelic.

http://www.faroeislands.fo/Default.aspx?ID=13596

http://www.heraldryclipart.com/symbolism/o.html

http://www.summerlands.com/crossroads/library/ENCYCLOPEDIA%20OF%20THE%20CELTS/Encyclopedia%20of%20the%20Celts%20%20O%20-%20Oyster-Catcher.htm

http://whitedragon.org.uk/articles/brighid.htm

http://www.celticheritage.co.uk/virtualshrine/brighid.cfm

Sensing the Cycles

Going through the motions,

as the world goes round and round.

The stunning colours entrance me,

as I tune into the sounds

Western winds are calling,

drowning out the cold

Curious if I could translate,

would I know what I’d been told.

Crunching through the leaves

as they lay upon the ground.

adding another dimension

to all the autumn sounds.

Drop after drop

the rain caresses my cheek,

wondering will I find

this treasure that I seek.

The reds, the golds,

shining so bright.

As the autumn passes

like day becomes night.

Winter chills here now

and I want my bed.

The freezing temperatures

the thing that I dread.

Hibernating and renewing,

all the years toil has taken.

Letting go like the trees

whose leaves have been shaken.

Is it true ever snowdrop,

is really unique?

If we knew the answer,

would it lose its mystique?

Catching a snowflake,

on the tip of my tongue.

Melting away

I catch another one.

A taste? I wonder,

but I’m not quite sure.

What I do know is,

it’s time for indoors.

The Tempest

Day dreams and sweet temptations.
Crazy ideas and rampant imaginations.
Lost in a world of madness beyond ken.
While trying to master the art of living Zen.
Winter chills linger, yet the embers been stoked.
The scent of spring brings with it fresh hope.
Tending the tinder’s and keeping warm.
The tempest’s awake, prepare for a storm.
Lay bare, awaiting the new cycle.
Behaving perfectly archetypal.
On fire now, the flame invoked.
Enchanted roots like an Ancient Oak.
No brimstone needed for budding to begin.
As the miracle of creation comes from within.