View from the Window. National Poetry Writing Month Day 9.


How the weather affects us, holds us to a certain mindset. I am watching the birds on lawn through a drizzly day window. They are walking in a line, hunting, pulling at my mind for some reason and memories of other days float in. What links them, the rain, the Jackdaws, black birds with disregard for me overlooking them. And what of the woods, the cutting down of a tree, the seeming silence as it falls and the noise as it strikes the ground. The pause as it settles, yet the space it leaves behind will be populated quickly, not forgotten, rejuvenated, a lesson for us.

View from the Window

Looking from the window on a rainy day,
all the time is brought together

Has the slow track succumbed?

Seven jackdaws peruse the garden,
for them, the rain brings food.

Red lights blur on the road,
rain, wipers, slowing travel.

Hooded heads tilting from side to side, strutting.
The tree has been felled, coming down silently.

Each tree is known prior to selection,
its position and use is planned.

The cold keeps us inside, the wind
is enjoying the emptiness of the street

The woodsman is not indiscriminate, the loss
of a single tree will do no harm in the woods.

The trees and crows still know
the space by its old name.