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A 73-year-old grandmother living in Normandy began writing in 2006 with OU courses. Of my hundreds of poems, I am moderately proud of the few which have been published. I’m working on increasing that record.
Sweet and sour aurora chorus:
unwilling slugabed sleepers
wake up.
Earlybird seekers of breakfast
hopping and pecking here and there.
Winners.
A flypast of oystercatchers,
Red Arrows, veiled in black and white
Stylish
A swimpast of mallard parents
with a ribambelle of fluffballs.
Too cute.
The mugging by high-handed gulls
of an innocent ham sandwich.
A crime.
A patient hovercraft kestrel
aloft and quivering to plunge.
Snatched shrew.
Formation dancing by starlings
glimmering across the twilit stage.
Curtain.
*
A soggy stiff-jointed stillness
of a witness, longing for tea
goes home.
note: Ribambelle is a French word for a string of something, usually children.
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