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
Natural World
Poem 546 – Summer Senses
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
Poem 542 – A Living Lawn
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
Poem 541- New River Arms Reborn
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
Poem 539 – No Mow May Revisited
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
Poem 538 – Stranded
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
Poem 537 – The Dripping Bush
Remember Moses met God in a burning bush?
Today I moved two blueberry bushes in
the rain, not really the same, and yet within
the falling drops I heard his jovial patter.
His words were splashing colour everywhere,
flowing down my collar and into my socks,
a rhythmic splatter announcing, ‘LET THERE BE!’
Inspired by collecting blueberry bushes in the rain from a local allotment.
(05.06.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Mario Mendez on Unsplash
Poem 535 – A June Walk
‘Ne’er cast a clout
’till May is out’
… but what’s that sound?
the rain pouring down!
But fortunately, I had my a new mac with me…
(03.06.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Alex Dukhanov on Unsplash
Poem 533 – Barn Owl Ghazal
I saw a feathered ghost fly past tonight,
White and graceful wings flowing fast tonight.
Fixing a fleeting mouse with radar stare,
Big piercing eyes left us aghast tonight.
Swooping soundlessly between darkened boughs,
Its cold elegance unsurpassed tonight.
With outstretched talons and determined claws,
It plunged, grasping the scared mouse fast tonight.
Hard pressed and crushed, with a shrill, tearful cry,
The desperate mouse breathed its last tonight.
Two foes, one fearful and the other feared,
What a fatal, final contrast tonight!
I thought I’d have a go at a ghazal: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/education/glossary/ghazal. Here’s my first stab, a bit clumsy, but not too bad for a first go. Tricky one to master!
(01.06.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Bob Brewer on Unsplash
Poem 530 – Ascension Day in Lincoln
Slowly we alight the sudden hill,
peeling back time as we ascend,
and as we do the Red Arrows fly by,
roaring past in perfect V formation.
They feel incongruous.
Timeless, above us all the cathedral reaches,
Imposing in its majesty it flies,
sundering our sense of time and scale.
Looking up, I lose identity,
and teetter on the edge of consciousness.
But even this transcendent edifice
is left behind. Upon its parapets
a peregrine perches, impervious to our whims.
Stretching, it commands the attention of
the distant minions gathering down beneath.
Meanwhile, one like a son of man ascends.
Upon the clouds he climbs to heaven’s throne,
and there, upon his head, the Ancient One
bestows an eternal crown and with it all glory
majesty and power for evermore!
We spent Ascension Day in Lincoln, where much to my delight we spotted peregrine falcons perched upon the cathedral. A truly awesome sight.
(29.05.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Rory Tucker on Unsplash
Ode for the Day 