Poem Hunter
To Our Delight
(25th March 1943 / )

To Our Delight

Poem By Ernestine Northover

I snapped a twig beneath my shoe,
and a startled bird flew o’er my head.
Crisp leaves were sprinkled on their tops with dew,
coloured, each one, in an autumnal hue,
and thickly spread.

Across the park, beneath the trees,
helped by the breeze, they’d descended down.
Carpeting the ground with a cushioned layer.
A splendid scene of such impressive flair,
in shades of brown.

A squirrel always so alert,
stood, rigid, inert and listened hard.
Then with an impish look made fast retreat,
by scuttling off, his tasty nuts to eat,
but still on guard.

Silence fell, no sound pierced the ear,
nothing to hear, quiet peace serene.
Then rutting stags called out to their new mates,
each bellow from a powerful throat vibrates,
their passions keen.

Strange that a twig beneath my toes,
can scatter the sparrows into instant flight.
In a fragile locale these creatures dwell,
to them it’s home and therefore they excel,
To our delight.

User Rating: 5,0 / 5 ( 4 votes ) 3

Comments (3)

I really enjoyed reading this Ernestine, I just can't quite explain it, but it reached that part that needed nourishment Thankyou for sharing your gift Love duncan X
Not only is this a superbly pictorial piece, you have managed to tailor it to the format perfectly. A double delight, Ernestine. Love, Fran xxx
You are at your, absolutely DELIGHTUL best, when writing so expertly and observationally about nature. t x