Sighting buzzards on Long Down
November 2023
The wind is sharp. Autumn frost has poured
Its caramel across the wooded slopes
And, yards from me, two buzzards hang in space,
Wingtip to wingtip, choreographed by air.
Their gaze is fixed below, intention deadly,
Yet I wonder what strange bird-sense lives in them
That, even in this fierce assassin's trance,
Whispers "Peace. You are companioned in the cold."
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About me
I'm an Anglo-Irish hypnotherapist, web developer,
father of five and (evidently) a poet of sorts.
My inspiration comes from the beautiful Cotswold countryside I inhabit and explore,
the intricate mysteries of the people I have loved, and the daily miracle of being a living, breathing,
always changing consciousness – a point of view through which the universe looks upon itself.
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