Natural World

Poem 694 – Parallel Lives

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Finally the sun pokes past the pines.
Rising above green branches it smiles,
gracing white English limbs with warmth
as they seek refuge from winter’s reach.

Meanwhile the nuthatch nimbly flits,
descending boughs in search of food,
and hooded crows call out in squabbling
song, oblivious to our play.

Distant peaks abruptly rise, their
sharpness standing in stark relief
to the serene and tender blue that idles,
gently washing their stoney feet.

A lazy morning today sat by the pool after yesterday’s enjoyable exertions.
(08.11.25)

© Ben Quant 2025

Poem 688 – The River

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Breathing slowly,
A flowing glass,
This deep dark tide,
A pulsing vein,
Captivates us
With its presence,
Hypnotizes
With its weight,
Its gravity,
Dense dignity,
That dwells within
These river banks.

The River Lee has an amazing heavy glassy quality right now that feels alive.
(02.11.25)

© Ben Quant 2025

Poem 687 – Summer’s Passing

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The river mourns, bedraggled willows weep,
their tousled hair drenched in its silent tears.
Its darkened waters meet the dreary mood,
the sun withholds its glow in sympathy.
Otters frolic no more and stay indoors,
above autumnal leaves begin to fall.
The rushes twitch, and coots peer out, as below
their doors the heavy cortege wearily flows.
Perched on his lonely post, dressed in funereal
black, the cormorant bows, pays his respects.
A lowly swan takes flight and passing honks,
‘Alas our green and pleasant land is dead!’

By the end of our walk the sun had come out, but much of our morning stroll had a very different character.
(01.11.25)

© Ben Quant 2025

Poem 686 – The Vigil

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Suspended, still and silent,
the spider hung all evening,
a single silken thread
secured him to the spot.

Patiently he waited, watching
with alien eyes, all eight,
hopefully focused upon us,
wondering when to leap.

But as the evening ended
the arachnid remained alert,
where, we retired praying,
he would remain all night.

I’ve spent the second night ironing, aware that all evening, someone hung behind me.
(31.10.25)

© Ben Quant 2025

Poem 680 – Season’s End

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The crest of winter creeps across the land.
Soon will come the crenellations of white
that edge the fringes of the frozen fields
andd lace the country lanes with a glistening sheen.

We walk. Fingers unused to the cold welcoming
the warmth afforded by coat pockets when thrust
into their hidden depths. Despite the carpet
of autumnal leaves, the light’s subdued, dialled down.

Our conversation hushed, we huddle close
contemplating the coming chill. Even
the birds are so, as summer songs are silenced.
The world draws in and waits for winter’s veil.

We shared an enjoyable walk this morning. The sun is out today, but the signs are there that the seasons are turning.
(25.10.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Sue Winston on Unsplash

Poem 667 – Eternal Horizons

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Back to the flat country
The land of black peat soil,
eternal horizons and hanging
mist. The womb that bore me.
Of tumbling buildings and ditches.
Of endless skies that leave us
falling into the view.
A dreamscape that still haunts me.

Returned to the Cambridgeshire fens today.
(12.10.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo public domain by Dr Border at English Wikipedia

Poem 661 – The Nottingham Coast

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This gentle green descends towards the horizon
which laps around its edge in waves of cloud.
Surprisingly, the playful sun is out, its
autumnal heat washes over us,
awakening birds that shriek in joyful play.
We walk, my father and I, along the hedgerows
reaching like groynes into the fields, alert
to fungi, berries and other harvest gifts.
Strolling along this Nottingham coast we let
it roll over our toes with grateful thanks.

Dad and I went for a delightful walk in the Nottingham countryside today, regretting in the surprisingly summer-like weather.
(06.10.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Ries Bosch on Unsplash

Poem 656 – Jane Goodall

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You helped us look into their eyes
And see ourselves reflected there,
As kindred spirits, a common gaze
That arcs across the DNA.

And through your long and patient study
We saw the nuance of their lives,
From using tools and forging bonds,
To waging war and playing games.

We learnt with you that we are not
As alone as once we thought we were,
And heard the call to extend our care
To these our long lost sisters, brothers.

I’m saddened to hear of the death of Dame Jane Goodall, such a significant scientist and advocate for the protection of our fellow creatures.
(01.10.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Ryan Al Bishri on Unsplash