A Poem for Thursday...Driving to Donegal

Driving to Donegal

River Bann in flood  cattle on the bank

cloud and blue patches in an Ulster sky

red barn roofs curved and corrugated

Enniskillen          Omagh              Derry

on the green road sign.   Driving west.

Telegraph wires strung out on drumlins

measuring the miles and the messages

ancient gaelic town lands   anglish form

politics noted in the colour of a flag

politics  black    green     blue     red

and white  with a bloody hand

woven together like fine Sunday linen.

Fecundity found in every hedge and tree

mother Ireland at her most fertile her

green hills swelling as ample breasts

each rowan     ash     willow and oak

hazelnuts beechnuts and acorns with

meadowsweet  knapweed  fireweed and

net fences twined about with red rosebuds

over   under   around the edges of gardens.

Geraldine Snape

A Murmuration

There we were coming back from a three day break in Suffolk, just driving past the Hen Reed Bed and on our way to Blythburgh with the water on the left. The winter sun just setting behind the reed beds.

There were people standing gazing heavenwards and we assumed that they were twitchers or at the least birders....but no...suddenly out of the corner of my eye I spotted what they were watching...

...the dance of the starlings....

....a murmuration of starlings.

Oh!

That takes your breath away.

Who ever told them to do such a complicated and glorious sort of combined flying?

No don't answer that.

I want to keep the memory intact.

Forget "Strictly"....we stood amazed and it took me a while to gather myself together to take these pics. The best and closest was over but these were pretty darn wonderful as they moved away out over the water.

And then ...they were gone....

Down into the trees on the far side of the marshes.

Magic!