Two pairs of black tipped ears peak over
the sun-bleached grass. Alert they twitch,
then gallop, gambol, giddily roll,
over and over, intoxicated.
This frenzy of rolling frollicking ends
a heap of writhing rusty yelps.
Beneath lies Reynard, dutifully watching,
made weary by new life’s first breaths.
The highlight of today? Two handsome fox cubs playing in the garden.
(23.06.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash
Above the parched, brown, grass a swathe of grey,
a bulging bank of possibility
that offers change of tone and filters light
and mood. Tomorrow awaits its resolution.
After the last few hot days, today’s a day of transition.
(22.06.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Micah Giszack on Unsplash
Poetry tonight?
That was my intention, but
Gardening won instead…
Self explanatory!
(18.06.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Just like an overactive child, the robin
Twitches upon the empty feeder ring.
Surveying the ground below, he studiously bends
Before furiously fluffing his tail feathers.
Next moment he’s scrapping his beak across the metal,
Before swooping and scurrying across the ground.
Back and forth he travels, up and down,
Impatient, never standing still.
Spent dinner watching a young robin through our windows.
(17.06.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Valentina Curini on Unsplash
Today like Moses I parted the sea
Only, it wasn’t water instead waves of grass
And I struck not a staff but shunted a mower
No horses drowned although grasshoppers jumped
and I didn’t reach Canaan just the end of the green
It’s been a long hot summer’s day
and now the light’s beginning to fade;
we’ve flung the doors wide open to let
the evening breeze come in.
Its cool fingers tickle my toes
and gently blow along my legs.
The newborn apples dusted on
the tree begin to swell.
Outside a grasshopper is singing,
its serenade a tribute to
the passing day, as is the scent
of summer barbeques.
It’s been a hot, if blustery day after the rains of yesterday. Gradually summer is arriving.
(14.06.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Brian Garcia on Unsplash
Alive!
Each step
Explodes
A swirling
Celebration
Of insects.
Having left the lawn to its own devices over May it’s full of grasshoppers and other insects.
(10.06.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
A rotting ruin, the old pub stood abandoned,
the juke box quiet, regulars forgotten,
its skeleton a ghostly shell left stranded.
As weeds burst through clay tiles and chimney pots
it seemed as if this plot had no more planned
than this, but mother nature had allotted
her resources, and soon this dead corpse breathed
again with saplings, lake and thriving reeds.
The site of a former local pub is being transformed as nature has its way.
(09.06.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
My mower has not seen the light of day
since April, the last time that the grass was trimmed,
and in its absence life’s had chance to play.
One look, you might decide the scene is grim,
but keep an open mind, once more survey –
the land’s awake to nature’s joyful hymn:
goldfinches seeking seeds as crickets sing,
and dandies dance before the bats take wing.
I thought I’d try a poem with an ottava rima rhyming form today (abababcc), and having been in the garden beforehand, this tumbled out.
(07.06.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Andrea Lightfoot on Unsplash
Trying to find the pitch,
I find myself stranded, caught
Between the cliff and the sea,
The heights and deep dark depths.
Straining, I struggle for breath.
I’ve been trying to learn a new song for Sunday’s service, but I just can’t find the right pitch for my voice.
(06.06.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Tiago Muraro on Unsplash
Ode for the Day 