The wheel of seasons keeps on turning at a steady pace
Spring then summer, autumn winter. Each one has their place
The brilliant fires of summer die in autumn’s melancholy
As flocks of birds prepare to leave, to stay here would be folly
A Durlston morning, fresh and clear, with sunshine warm and bright
Swallows swooping overhead and Great Tits out of sight
A single Chiffchaff fills the air with its simple two tone song
With Field and Meadow Grasshoppers deciding to play along
Our Wildflowers have gone to seed, Rough Hawkbit and Agrimony
The seeds seek out new lands to settle, open, rough and stony
A Speckled Wood alights before me, atop a Hawthorn bough
It craves the vital warmth that only sunlight can endow
Small Copse is host to Goldfinches, a flock of several score
They flutter back and forth from tree to tree along the shore
And in a swirling mass they come together in song and call
I try to keep a tally but there’s no way to count them all
Our lighthouse still stands tall and proud awaiting a winter storm
Even though many years ago this building ceased to perform
A monument to days gone by, a beacon in the fog
I feel safer in its presence, our great white stone watchdog.
A Garden Warbler loops and dives with admirable finesse
Descending into a patch of Gorse with no sign of distress
A marvellous feat for one so humble and so plain of dress
It seems our friend the warbler has other means to impress
On my return along the coast I see some purple flora
Sea Aster above the caves gives off a pleasant aura
With Meadow Browns flapping by my side I end my morning rounds
Another month begins on Durlston's ever changing grounds.