Zenfolio | Lisa Naylor | Wanderlust



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

Dec 2013

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

Dec 2013

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

Autumn flurry
of rustic leaves
fallen softly
dressed down trees

Golden bundle
Shining fur
Fine-tuned sense
to hazelnut lure

excitedly leaps
Frolicks and springs
Games of acorns
Acorns of Kings

Standing tall
Snowy white breast
Squirelling stock
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 

Crisp golden,

Luminous yellow,

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


October 2014



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.


May 2015



Hearts turn cold,
frozen in time

Feelings lost,
no longer they rhyme

Days are long,
are the currents that sweep

Minutes seize,
as eyes do weep

Memories flood,
like broken skin

Thoughts do blend,
the soul within

Healing stings,
are clipped once more

Singing stops,
the open door


The Osprey (Pandion haliaetus)

© lisa naylor

Fisherbirds of flaming skies

From African sunset to fir top highs

Crested Majesty

Talons to strike

Soars through the thermals

locked onto pike

Trout for a treat

Rainbow or brown,

Surely the best Fish supper in town

Soulmates forever

Though winters apart

Caledionan Summers

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


Jack Snipe

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