When the pen takes control.

A gentle breeze blew

hazy ribbons filled the skies

days to be cherished

We started out in joyful manner

our route seeming so well planned

in the van we proudly held our banner

carried high in the leader’s hands

some wore shoes but most feet bare

following the well-trodden path

knowing our faith would guide us there

to place our flag upon the staff

so we crossed the barren land

while people thought us quite bizarre

that such a strange and diverse band

would seek to worship at the alcazar

Far to the West are pink-hued skies

in silhouette the bridge of sighs

each pillar standing straight and tall

while ripples gently lap the shore

I sit with fishing rod in hand

and wait till I can see no land

for now is the best time indeed

when all the fish come in to feed

and if I’m lucky and am able

will catch a nice one for my table.

Last night I went to a National Park

I chose a place where the skies are dark

for its my belief that everyone should know

that a meteor shower is a dazzling show

so I really think it would be good

if everyone was able to or at least could

find dark skies

Watching the weather

the fowl returns to the roost

ruffled by the breeze

Every year quite without fail

I would go home to celebrate

a birthday for which I could not be late

to see my mother in the Devon dales

an area you would quickly realse

gives real meaning to Dark Skies

and as those jewels passed overhead

we were awestruck, no words said

but sadly she has now passed on

my reason for the trip has gone

and though the meteors still come

I see a few but their meanings gone

I went back to Devon where I was born

looking for a cow that didn’t have horns

they said to me that’s a strange request

but I told everyone that they’re the best,

because a cow doesn’t have a lot of sense

they will often get their heads stuck in the fence

and horns won’t bend, whereas soft ears do

so it’s easier to pull her head back through

Steady as she goes

Life is like a rolling sea

the fixed course runs true

This is the tale of hissing Sid

to sit in the sun he slowly slid

as sibilance was his middle name

smoothly slithering and sliding was his game

Like the big bodied bumblebee

I often get the urge to go

and drift along quite aimlessly

where water and air so slowly flow

but although I only seek delight

she has a purpose to her flight

for during every waking hour

she seeks to drink from each bright flower

the only way blooms can spread their genes

and maintain such idyllic scenes.