New Year's Day
Mid-morning like dusk,
a low, dull sky obscuring
the sun and its light.
Peace despite the wind.
The only one of my kind,
a sole survivor.
A squirrel tells me,
as it scurries up a tree,
‘You are not alone.’
A mewing buzzard
mobbed by a tenacious crow
glides to a woodland.
A flurry of grey
against the dark wintry trees
as pigeons scatter.
Gulls silent and white,
fields incongruously green,
corvids clouds of black.
As if on a string,
a kite hovers above me,
bringing tears of joy.
A wood pigeon’s call,
a reminder of summer
on a winter’s day.
A flash of gold green
as a woodpecker flies low,
like moss in sunshine.
The yacking jackdaws,
a quiet flock of lapwings
and chattering rooks.
Catkins on hazel
and dried leaves decorate
trees that are dormant.
Fox musk in the air,
and at the sight of a hare,
I exclaim out loud.
I turn to look back,
but it is uncomfortable -
keep looking forward.
By the end I feel
both uplifted and grounded,
by heaven and earth.
Gunfire kills the peace
and the birds raise the alarm.
We are not alone.
