Your furthest reaches are armed with bombs,
clusters of yellowing grenades primed
and ready to launch into the blue.
Anytime now you will release
them, set them free, and watch them fly,
a spinning, twirling, haze of wings.
Your children fly exploding life
wherever they land and pierce the ground.
Nearby trees are suddenly pregnant with sycamore seeds.
(05.06.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
We step into your verdant world,
the air draws near, a heavy still.
In here the outside ceases,
nothing impinges on us but
this present place. Time’s passage pauses.
Your warm breath passes over us
in shades of photosynthesis.
Fallen trunks like tentacles
lie tangled around our foreign feet.
Somewhere a scurry sounds amongst
the leafy undergrowth. Reeds rustle.
Disturbed a flock takes flight.
Footprints fossilised in sunbaked
mud reveal that others pass
this way but none pass by today.
I half-expect a roar of some
tyrannosaur to rend the peace
with bloody teeth and gaping jaw .
A walk around the lakes in Lea Valley today felt like stepping into another world.
(31.05.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Straining, all knees and gangly legs, I stand.
My newborn head is heavy as I reach
and sway with splaying limbs towards my mum.
I find she’s moved. I glitch and stumble forwards.
Momentum found, I shake my mane and follow,
our bodies, side by side, are bound by hope.
At last she stops, and threatening to collapse,
I find a teat and finally start to suck.
After dinner we went for a local wander and enjoy the sight of four newborn foals finding their feet.
(29 05.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Fabien Maurin on Unsplash
Drenched in lethargy, an airless blanket,
stillness squeezes, leaves us breathless.
Yearned for, now we yearn for our release,
and silent sit and wait and longing sigh.
A simple look from friend or passing stranger
wordlessly communicates, ‘it’s hot’.
Enough, we do not speak, we can’t be bothered,
instead we slump or slowly amble on.
Another hot day. I popped into the church where I work this morning and relished a moment in the cool. And then I checked the the thermostat on the wall – in what world is 25.5 C cool in May?! Ridiculous.
(26.05.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Sylvester Sabo on Unsplash
Fling wide your aching doors, throw open windows,
For now the burning sun has started to dim,
Beyond the blue horizon it departs,
And at last the cooling breeze can whisper in.
This yearning land at last begins to breath,
An ease is found after the heavy heat,
Whilst news of soaring records fill the press,
Let’s rise to grasp this temporary reprieve.
34 degrees in May…
(25.05.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Luis Graterol on Unsplash
Blue skies, like mediterranean seas, flow in.
This summer tide invades and heat pervades
the moment. All things are held within its grasp.
Unlike the birds who seem to revel in
its waves, we wilt, and under happy song,
the avian chorus, we slowly stagger forwards.
Straining to swim full-clothed, we start to strip;
will disentanglement lead us to find freedom?
I fear not so, the sun erodes and leaves
us simply red, paddling painfully flustered
to keep our noses above the rising water.
It’s been a scorcher today. From hailstorms to heatwaves, what a bonkers May its been…
(24.05.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Vicko Mozara on Unsplash
Something isn’t right
It’s Bank holiday weekend
And the Sun is out
It looks like a glorious week ahead
(22.05.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Lucas George Wendt on Unsplash
A refreshing summer stroll along the banks
of London’s Tap, the City’s river, bringing
water for the masses. The sun is out.
A gentle mandarin duck shows off her chicks,
a proud and tidy mother with her brood.
A cormorant smiles to show appreciation.
Winged insects dance above the flow amongst
the fuzzy seeds that snag upon sharp branches.
Alongside we walk and for a moment breathe.
This afternoon we enjoyed a lovely wander along the Enfield stretch of the New River Walk.
(09.05.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Sunday evening, sat in church praying,
Our stumbling voices stutter to
A halt, uncertain of how to talk.
Sitting uncertain in our circle,
We’re startled from staring at our feet
When suddenly a new voice speaks –
A jubilant robin, his joyous song
Penetrating the awkward silence
Sounding loudly inside our sanctuary.
His trilling tongue entices us;
A Jacob’s Ladder leading from heaven
To lift us to the Lord above.
His notes remove the massing gloom
And melody delights and lifts us;
Before too long we find our voices.
In Sunday’s evening service we were treated to a beautiful solo.
(04.05.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Josh Applegate on Unsplash
Stationary upon its scaffolding pole,
The cowled jackdaw keeps its eery stare,
An ancient watch atop a modern perch.
Its mate descends to claim a cold partner;
A twitch of midnight feathers and it too
Stands still, two beaks in frozen parallel.
I turn to look with them, wondering what
They watch so motionless. I can not tell;
What plane do these four focused eyes perceive?
I shudder sensing that they see elsewhere,
Penetrating flesh and blood and bones
Perceiving naked souls hiding within.
The house behind ours is currently having an extension built and the local jackdaws have abandoned our trees for the tops of its scaffolding poles.
(02.05.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Daniil Komov on Unsplash
Ode for the Day 