All poems © Ross Gardner and should not be reproduced in any format without prior permission.

An opportunity for some poems to see their first light of day.  I hope they are enjoyed.

Dune Coast

Sibilant seething,

Softly over stone-shadows and silica.

Gurgling down burrow-holes.

Stirring groyne-trapped cobbles

In a warm clamour

Of contented bemusement.

Beyond scattered strandings

Of pallid weed

The beach hauled up by roots.

Wind-crested, rippling;

Breaking in a lichen surf,

Lost among rabbit's teeth

And stunted birch trees.

A wild place with a soft hand,

Today at least.

Taking Flight (on the efforts of a swan)

Flight reclaimed in the nick of time

And from the steely grip of cold physics.

Drawing up her skirts and rolling her sleeves

She sheds momentarily any stately airs

In a wheezing cacophony

Of wings and treading water.

"... hang on ...... just a minute"

(stiffening her resolve

and willing the rest to follow)

"... just a few seconds more ..."

And yes!

The ballerina beats her chest,

A transformation in motion.

Reorganises her graces -

And with barely a curl of that stiff upper lip -

Into brute force and defiance

Against the full weight of the sky...

Stony Ground

I watched a maple seed,

Two wings whirring in perfect balance,

With a certain poise in the gusting wind

No different, in its way, to the deftness

Of gulls wings, or buzzards, or a kestrel in a hover.

And so it span, with a purpose outside of instinct,

All the efforts of its lineage terminating

On a granite set in a 'desirable' London street

And I knew then the true meaning

Of good intentions falling on stony ground.