Natural World

Poem 479 – Home to Roost

/ BenDQ / Leave a comment

Each dusk they fly in flocks
Across the inky sky
A gathering murmuration

And as the starlings gather
Bats begin to flit
And weave their frantic patterns

This transit brings to mind
Another distant view
The passing of the sun

We gathered in your garden
Equipped with tinted glasses
To watch the solar eclipse

Back then, as now, the birds
Flew across the horizon
Going home to roost

But soon it’s time for you
To take to wing and pass
Go heading home to roost

Fly safely, my old friend,
Through this liminal place
And soon the sun will shine

The starlings are massing as night falls.
(08.04.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Jan Haerer on Unsplash

Poem 477 – Mother Sun

/ BenDQ / 1 Comment

The newborn sunshine warms the sleeping foal.
With winter’s labour done, its early rays
accompany the horse’s early breaths.
Lying content and totally at peace
its chest rises and falls, filling with life
under its constant mother’s patient gaze.

This afternoon we took a walk across the River Lea, and stumbled across the site of a new born foal sleeping under the early spring sun.
(06.04.25)

© Ben Quant 2025

Poem 465 – An Avian Revival

/ BenDQ / Leave a comment

We sit outside, enjoying Spring’s fresh sun,
sharing a cup of tea and conversation.
The heavens’ freshness is invigorating,
shining light into wearied Winter limbs.

We aren’t the only ones awakened by
the afternoon’s blue opportunity;
the sky swells with ranks of choristers,
alert, their chests puffed out with jubilant song.

Performing bass, the racket of the rooks erupts,
joining the tree-born tenor pigeons’ coos.
Insistent great tits drill their alto beats, as
greenfinch glissandos trill in soprano splendour.

At the finale’s final flourish we file
out of the garden, aware that we’ve been treated
by a most marvellous rendition of this
anarchic avian anthem. We applaud.

Yesterday afternoon, I sat outside with my parents, ensuring the weather and the glorious birdsong.
(25.03.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Svetozar Cenisev on Unsplash

Poem 462 – Missing

/ BenDQ / Leave a comment

All was quiet the first time we walked here –
except for the birds. The birds were singing loudly,
so loudly in fact that their melody hurt our ears.
Later, we learnt they were actually quieter than before, only now, devoid of cars and people,
their melody could actually be heard.

We walked this way again, today, without
the fear of meeting others. This time it was
the cars that shouted, roaring as they passed,
angry, desperate to be moving on.
I could see the birds were screaming but
their tortured song was muffled, faint and lost.

Five years on from the start of the pandemic, Spring is here, and with it the birds’ melodious song – if you can hear it, that is.
(22.03.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Tyler Jamieson Moulton on Unsplash

Poem 454 – Look Out For The Flowers

/ BenDQ / Leave a comment

Our lawn has been infested
by violets, a swarming purple.
Next will come white daisies
and bohemian dandelions.

A lone daffodil has
somehow found its way,
but now the sun is out
they’ll start to come en masse.

Bluebells ring amidst a
daze of forget-me-nots.
Wild cyclamen appear
even a stray red strawberry.

These immigrants attract
bees and other insects,
troublemakers buzzing
in tongues I cannot speak.

Be sure it won’t stop there.
No, before you know it
they’ll flock, the birds and bats
and butterflies and crickets.

Every sound and language
under the sun will surround us;
a multitudinous riot
of culture, colour and song.

I fear for my children, they
will never know the past:
our English gardens’ green
and monocultural grass.

The more I talk to those of other countries living here, the more I see the beauty around me.
(14.03.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by virginia lackinger on Unsplash

Poem 452 – Man vs. Garden

/ BenDQ / Leave a comment

Today I’ve been pruning a bush.
That is an understatement.

I’ve been chopping up remains
of vast swathes of branches culled
from overgrown hedges and bushes
and dumping them in our bin.

It’s been a battle, one man
with secateurs versus
Mother Nature gone wild.
Mother Nature is winning.

Eventually, Mother Nature
always finds a way,
but meanwhile, here I am,
trying to tame her excess.

Each piece recalls the past,
each snip a season gone,
and as the wheelie bin is
filled with trimmings, time flies.

Today I’ve been being pruned,
my sense of self stripped back,
perspective re-established,
the brambles will be back.

With winter gradually receding, I’ve been trying in vain to maintain garden order…
(12.03.25)

© Ben Quant 2025

Poem 448 – Hertfordshire Chain Walk Pt. 2

/ BenDQ / Leave a comment

Nine mile loop on foot
Through woods, fields and viaducts.
Above model planes
And red kites glide the thermals.
Back just as the Sun goes down.

After lunch we decided to go back and do the second loop of the Hertfordshire Chain Walk, knowing that we would be getting to the car as the sun went down. No time to hang around!
(08.03.25)

© Ben Quant 2025

Poem 446 – Rising

/ BenDQ / Leave a comment

The sun rises, and with it rise our spirits,
its warmth begins to thaw our dormant souls.
Woken from their winter hibernation,
emerging smiles begin to bud then flower.
Above the bird song swells in volume and richness,
and here below our voices respond in kind.
Funny how all it takes to wash away
the blues are blue skies, blazing with glorious gold.

This week, Spring has sprung.
(06.03.25)

© Ben Quant 2025