Wild moment: Val DunmorePublished: 29th April 2016
I thought other members might enjoy these two sonnets - just love writing nature poetry.
Fast shifting shadows sweep the hillsides where
I’ve tramped for miles in blissful reverie,
with drifting mists my only company,
elation in the place of worldly care.
And when I stand upon these slopes so bare
I feel the friendliness of rock and scree,
that stretch as far as straining eyes can see
into the haze of vaguely shimmering air.
Gushing rock from rock the crystal streams
vibrate the atmosphere with pulsing sound,
that echoes and reverberates in dreams.
The greatness in these hills is so profound
it brings a peace that through all trauma gleams,
and I am stilled by all that I have found.
I know a bird that haunts the barren hills,
the marshes, fields and craggy windswept shore;
a timid winged voice, unlike the caw
of raucous rooks, but softly drawn out trills
emitted from its long and slender bill,
curved to dig deeply in the stony moor
as should the conscience into man’s heart’s core.
For bird, you often suffer fear that kills
the joy of being free, as men disturb
your sweet tranquillity; encroach, demote
all Nature. Trapped within this cruel curb,
your search for sanctuary gets more remote;
though still in Orkney you sing unperturbed
ripple and ripple with each perfect note.