As a Flock of Waxwings in the Beech


These leaves of beech first breathed in spring,

And trembled, touched by summer rains,

Turned copper crisp through autumn frosts,

And with our coming, shiver on.


We flick our wings against the thorns

Of sloe and brittle bramble shrub,

We take our pick of haws and hips.

Amongst the beech we hide from hawks.


On winter nights the starlight calls

Of redwing heading further south:

The finest needle points of fear.

We huddle then behind the leaves.


We wait together in the beech.

We fly together in the snow.



7 Comments to “As a Flock of Waxwings in the Beech”

  1. I find myself like a bird taking shelter in your words, again

  2. How beautifully you have captured the behavior of birds that flock! I don’t see waxwings where I am, but the finches and doves endure winter together! Thanks for sharing.

  3. Lovely writing. You write about nature so very, VERY well!

  4. I love this almost pictorial movement through the seasons with your words. A delightful poem:)


  5. Beautiful images of nature here

  6. Just so beautifully lyrical. You create the scene and place your reader right in the middle.

  7. You woo the reader right into the flock, making her feel at home. Your details and the lyrical quality of your voice make this, like others of your works, purely pleasurable.

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