Early morning walk in Whitton Park

 

I walk slowly with my stick in Whitton Park

meditating on the morning dew I walk

I see the seasons change and rejoice

a carpet of bluebells in the month of May I see.

Their perfume wafts and bathes me anew.

Grateful I am to crunch the dry twigs

and see magpies steal to build their nests.

These oak woods are ancient

grandfather trees are two hundred years old

when autumn comes they turn to gold

and their leaves descend and kiss the forest floor

And lie until Spring to be fed back to them.

I see squirrels, blckbirds, thrushes and birds galore

What would the world be without birds and trees?

A prospect hard to contemplate.

 

 

Sundar