In August, when the sky was often blue,
Tweeting songs of unrecognised birds over reeds.
A plethora of gnats, a bad summer for bees.
Blackberry stems rising where they were lopped.
Badgers fighting in a road. A girl belching “wart-hog”.
Sparrowhawk in graveyard standing pat.
A green and red woodpecker flew to the back of a field
That cattle huddled in. A Maine Coon cat was held -
The papers said - to be a lion. Braving the smell
I took in my hand an oyster’s bivalve shell.
At the month’s end by the compost bin - a rat.
Water-lily, crested newt, into the kitchen hopped a frog.
Where we walked with babies, mulberries dropped.
A goldfinch at the garden water dish, we freeze!
Siskin, greenfinch, heron, sunflower seeds....
The otter's motto was, "I'm not for stew".