This is the theme for our next writers' meeting and I am attempting to write a poem. I have a friend, G, who has the most marvellous eye for spotting little 'treasures' and when she has found one she will then devote her time to researching what it is.
She photographed some of them and printed them off on one sheet, with a description of where she found each one and from that I have written a poem. This is the first draft of the poem. Writers' Group is not until the first Wednesday of September so I have plenty of time to revise. In the meantime I shall be interested to hear what you think.
Wandering through the woods she finds
an owl pellet,
the brilliant feather of the jay,
the perfect skeleton of the wood mouse -
washed clean by the Summer's rain -
its tail stretched out like a string
of tiny beads.
Along the Thames foreshore,
gleaning at low tide -
a Jacobean wool seal,
bearing the king's crown.
And by the River Swale
a silver sixpence and
a silver thimble,
both shining in the mud.
Fossils, ammonites, sea urchins,
a message in a bottle,
all seem to fall into her lap.
Molehills, middens and rockfalls
draw her like iron to a magnet,
to find clay pipes, ink bottles,
flint scrapers, spindle whorls.
On drives in the country it is she
the long-tailed tit's nest in a winter tree.
A young dead badger by the road,
a buzzard hovering overhead,
a blackcock in a silver birch,
all draw her eye.
What makes her see these things
that I pass by?
but her keen eye.