Woodland’s Breath © lisa naylor
Nestled down in woodland scene
Rusty heather, deepest greens,
Lichen clings to dancing trees
Seaweed soft till midnight's freeze
Structures cling to branch and twig
Nik naks strewn, Winter's wig
Nature's art on raw display
Beautified with hoarfrost's stay
Crystalised, snowy dreams
Pine trees casting natural beams
Sunlight dapples squirrels dray
Raven's herald forth new day
Slowly now the woodland breathes
Underneath it's frozen leaves
Living proof of death © lisa naylor
Upholding life, so selflessly
Fungi grows on deadened tree
Lichen plated, Colbalt Crust,
Scarlet elf cup slowly rusts
Brambles knot through branches lost
Crampballs to the wind once tossed,
Glistening inkcap quietly blooms
Nestled away from stinkhorn’s fumes
Bonfire Scalycap in embers does flash
Neighbour in cinders to common eyelash
Galls feed on leaves, apples and oak
Secretly growing ‘neath thicketed cloak
On Branch, a work of nature rests
Brackets for artists, a true treasure chest
As neon yellow loudly glows
rocking lemon it's proud disco
Honey Fungus sweetly thrives
A wonder anything survives
This dark, decaying, rotting wood
Living proof where ash once stood
Ode to Hermaness - lisa naylor
Jagged Edges of land sink to the sea
Commotion reigns, Gannets fly free
to the depths of the water, then back to the rocks
Puffins pepper and cut through white seabird flocks
In small rocky alcoves strewn with seathrift
Fulmars are nesting as pearl feathers drift
A cacophony, an orchestra,
Call it what you will
Cackling and grunting below a skybird's trill
Gliding, turning, diving,
Black tips o'er deep sea blue
Grooming, feeding, mating
In summer sunlight's hue
Autumn Flurry © lisa naylor
of rustic leaves
dressed down trees
to hazelnut lure
Frolicks and springs
Games of acorns
Acorns of Kings
Snowy white breast
for barren land's test
Sweet tufty ears
Playful wee claws
Come back and visit
Once winter has thawed
As the morning breathes...
Mist protects the souls of the trusted oak
as the sky is lit by a morning flame
streaking across vast expanses of cool blue
Songbirds stretch their wings
and begin their morning chorus to the earth,
Nearby cormorants adorn a line of wooden posts
their ghostly silhouettes seen above water's haze
Teal and Mallard chattering noisily as the darkness fades
The lake is warmed with autumn colour
Reflections of change, warmly embraced by nature.
A lone marsh harrier glides over rusted reedbeds
Her presence felt by the gathered masses below
Two herons chase each other, their figures mirrored flawlessly as they pass across the mere.
They rest in a tree, petrified and ancient.
A scene from a Jurassic age.
In the quiet of a woodland floor
Injections of colour and shape can be found in the form of festive fungi
Petal and bell structures litter the floor
strewn between technicolour leaves
lit up as the morning sun creeps ever upwards
A squirrel happily hops along soft moss
that decorates a dry stone wall
Suspicious of sudden noise, an eruption is heard from the small, playful creature
A few seconds later, branches break and leaves rustle,
He is gone.
Just the trees stand.
Patient, presenting beautifully their seasonal colours and filling the darkest shadows with a golden glow and crisp bronze leaves.
I connect to everyone of these moments
My heart beats in time with the movements of the birds, flitting from tree to tree.
My senses are alive as the earth rejoices in life.
The renewal of energy from one season to the next.
I am present.
I breathe with the morning
Kaleidoscope Carpet - Autumn's Arrival
And slowly, as the earth breathes
my eyes adjust to a new world
And burnt red,
Gather as an artist's pallet
on a warm woodland floor,
Peppered with pine needles, fir cones and acorns
Gifts sent from above to foraging creatures below
A rustic canopy meets with blue skies and soft wispy clouds
Leftovers from a Summer's day.
Shards of light creep through the branches of Pine, Ash and Birch
Whilst silhouettes of leaf and twig illuminate quietly
A light show for resting squirrels, bedded in lichen in the midday sun.
The ever progressing seasons do not flinch
They proudly announce their arrival and departures with celebratory colour
Sounds of roaring stag are heard from the mountain tops,
Powerful and raw
A call that echoes through sleepy Glens
Causing antlers to twitch
and testosterone to charge the morning with wild anticipation.
Jays paint the woodland with accents of salmon and blue,
flitting through the branches
Raspy cries preceding their graceful flight.
As the wind blows gently the titian tinted painting melts once again
Thousands of pieces of assorted confetti float to the kaleidoscope carpet,
shades of green are a distant memory in this golden wild wood.
The prelude to winter,
A fiery, flaming forest
Glowing with Autumn hues
*****************Red Squirrel Diary - A Summer's Morning
Cascading through the tall, lean monumental pines, the sun greets the earth once more.
Shadows creep gently and where the light hits, spider’s webs are illuminated; shiny and vast,
their networks revealed, their artistic offerings admired by those quiet enough to notice
such small, beautiful accomplishments.
A woodpecker drums through the morning air and awakens a small red bundle of fun,
Not long into this world, nestled in the heart of the great pine, this small creature awakens briefly,
Not long after, he is huddled again, breathing deeply in the warmth of the drey.
Lichen hangs as beautifully as bridal lace.
A sign of purity in the air, and a sight to behold through shards of soft sunlight, each piece held to it’s
master by delicate, intricate lime threads.
Through the trees a red squirrel can be heard, erupting.
Chirruping noisily through the trees, announcing her intent for a busy morning of foraging whilst the
Earth is warm and soft.
Systematically she climbs down the tall pine, each movement disturbing the elegant skins of the
Scottish greats, mini bark avalanches trickle down the trees.
Cautiously at first, she starts to inspect the flora and fungi of the woodland floor.
Sniffing, scratching, burying, leaping, eating, rolling and climbing ensures over the next wee while.
Back in the tree tops, a silhouette leaps from branch to branch, a well trainer and perfectly balanced
Acrobat, the branches sway softly from her energy
She stops, in a large fork of the old Oak.
For a while she grooms her shiny coat and preens her tail.
As she cleans, her eyes start to droop and gradually she dozes off, upright in the fragrant woods
Which she calls home. Her tail gradually lowers over her head, providing a sunshade as she sleeps.
And for a small time, there is still.
Only the sun creeps upwards in the sky.
Hearts turn cold,
frozen in time
no longer they rhyme
Days are long,
are the currents that sweep
as eyes do weep
like broken skin
Thoughts do blend,
the soul within
are clipped once more
the open door
The Osprey (Pandion haliaetus)
© lisa naylor
Fisherbirds of flaming skies
From African sunset to fir top highs
Talons to strike
Soars through the thermals
locked onto pike
Trout for a treat
Rainbow or brown,
Surely the best Fish supper in town
Though winters apart
Are affairs of the heart
Guards of the Lochan
Of woods and the hollow
Keeper of the Eeerie
Returns with the swallow
Enjoying the views
Of the mountains surround
Safe from predation
So high from the ground
Oh, fisherbird, fisherbird
Keep flying for me
In the vast Scottish skies
Next to yonder fir tree
Black Grouse (Tetrao tetrix)
An Opera in three parts is heard
In Celtic wood, a wee black bird,
Purrs cadenzas, coos a song
To fairer grouse, what sweeter throng?
They sit politely, watch the dance
Beaks are swords, a moments chance
To beat the cock who struts so proud
Pufftail white, proclaiming loud,
That he ‘the King of the woods’ will stay
The chorus watch, his words obey
Rasping calls through woodland greet
Other grouse who dare to meet
The ever vibrant troubadour
This Don Juan of the forest floor
Careful footsteps, boggy ground
Jack Snipe hide, rarely found
Resting here, 'neath path of crow
Do they see what lurks below?
Bunting in the reed do sing
Suddenly the Snipe take wing
Erupting calls as to the sky
Camouflage starts to fly
Yet quieter without a sound
Lifting up from boggy ground
The Jack Snipe swiftly flies away
Alas, we will not meet today