In regal array the swan
Drifts serenely across the lake
With proud neck she stakes her claim
Outstretched wings proclaim her place
She rules all that she surveys
Usurpers swiftly subdued
In a bank holiday walk in Lea Valley we stopped to spend time with this majestic creature
(18.04.22)
© Ben Quant 2022
Nature
Poem 117 – The Heron
The heron lumbers on
This prehistoric throwback
Envelopes with its wings
Turning the world to shades
Of grey forboding shadows
When passing overhead
Aloft it struggles to
Maintain its altitude
But on the river bank
Transformed and elegant
It perches, patient, wise
With poised anticipation
Its stillness is unmatched
The clock hand paused
…until
The moment of decision
The throwing of the dart
A single precise strike
Efficient in its catch
Walking home from our Easter service a heron flew over, its struggles a clear contrast to its normal elegance.
(17.04.22)
© Ben Quant 2022
Poem 95 – The Scandal of Spring
Without our noticing, the velvet bud
Protrudes. This act of annual resurrection
From naked branch to clothed, a strip tease in
Reverse, so tantalising in modesty.
Before long, it will be scandalously dressed.
The bite of winter receding, our fruit trees are coming back to life once more.
(23.02.22)
© Ben Quant 2022
Poem 9 – Morning View Across Lea Valley
From my seat I survey the slumbering valley
Low-lying haze lingering awaiting the sun
Still air not disturbing nor whisper ruffling
The feathers of the stationary wood pigeon
Its solitary sentry, perched a top its pole
A murmuration glides elliptically sweeping
Forerunners perhaps of the morning’s wake
Pylons bisecting, stark across the horizon
Lone hint of humanity otherwise obscured
Except bare rooftops from this bedroom view
But gradually grey infects the day’s potential
Draining greens and yellows from tree and field
Viewed across this dip through which the Lea drains
Thames-ward to empty its life-giving waters
Rain’s curtain descends, this scene comes to an end
A rare breakfast in bed this morning afforded me a view out of our bedroom window across the Lea Valley. It seemed I was not alone in a slow start, with the view equally languid other than a flock of starlings sweeping past.
(16.10.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
Ode for the Day 