Is it a lawnmower or is it a bird…….?
In Bedford’s quiet streets
Can often be heard
The whirr, whirr, whirring
Of the lawnmower bird.
A solitary creature,
It moves around on its own,
At the grass that has grown,
Especially after the rain
Has awakened tired roots
And fed them with nutrients
To produce new green shoots.
Never at night
Will you hear this bird stirring,
As it rests in its shelter,
Tired out from its whirring.
And not every day
Does this strange bird appear,
And during the winter
The sightings are rare.
Its plumage favours green,
Although sometimes it’s red,
And black ones are seen,
So I’ve heard it said.
Some leave a smell,
While others trail a cord,
Usually accompanied by a man
Who appears to be bored.
So there you have it,
There’s no more to tell
About the lawnmower birds
That in Bedford do dwell.
Some of us do not take the threat of catastrophic man made climate change and the impending end of the world seriously enough, … but not me…
The wind blew last week and that was followed by rain,
So the proof was right there, so obvious, so plain
That climate change is real, how much evidence did I need?
I had to reverse it, or at least try to impede.
So I sold my car and every domestic appliance,
On anything electrical now I have no reliance,
Stopped changing my clothes and showering as well,
To save the planet I’m prepared to smell.
No more trips abroad on those big, evil aircraft,
I know some still travel, but they are just so daft,
Now if I want to go anywhere I just have to walk,
You see I take action, rather than just talking the talk.
Stopped eating any meat, well that goes without saying,
(Think of the virtue signalling I must be conveying!);
And for those that remain so hard to convince,
Well, there’s been no wind or rain, no sign of them since!
So am I carbon neutral? Well no, I’m still breathing,
CO2 gas in great quantity from my body is leaving,
So the world will just have to wait until I’m no more
To find out if the climate has stopped changing for sure.
Not always that easy to find the motivation…..
As the chill morning air
Banishes a few days of heat,
And the rain gently falls,
For our plants such a treat.
A second pot of coffee,
As if by magic;
Not to soak up this splendour
Would surely be tragic.
The camera shutter clicks,
Must capture the morning
As the mist cloaks the mountain,
Of more rain it’s a warning.
Searching for the energy
To make a start to our day,
Or should we just stay here?
Perhaps we just may!
Berg wind conditions – let’s hope it brings rain!
A fierce berg wind is blowing,
Driving across The Karoo,
The parched, punished ground
Being savaged anew,
As the last drops of moisture
From the withered plants wrung
While the trees forced to bow,
Their heat weary heads hung.
It may be a sign of a weather change,
Brought on a by the wind that blows hot;
Maybe it might bring some much needed rain
My head says probably not;
But my heart still hopes that I am wrong
And the wind will bring relief;
Until then the berg wind continues to howl,
The moisture stealing thief.
And still no sign of the rain that we desperately need…..
Maybe tomorrow the rain will come,
Maybe tomorrow we’ll hear the drops drum
On the tin roofs, so tortured by heat
And so desperate to feel those rain drops beat.
Maybe tomorrow we will feel on our face
Those long cooling drops falling from space,
Soaking the ground as well as our clothes,
Maybe tomorrow, but who really knows.
Maybe tomorrow the farmers can smile,
As the rain comes after such a long while;
Stock they can’t feed, crops wilt and die.
They say rain tomorrow, but is it a lie?
Maybe tomorrow, the forecasters say,
But with our emotions they must never play,
For once they just need to get their facts straight,
As for the rain we all anxiously wait.
Maybe tomorrow we’ll wake up to feel
The cooler weather as the dark clouds steal
Across the blue sky, promising us that rain,
Maybe tomorrow, but are we hoping in vain?