A poem by Eileen

 

Here is a moving poem written by Eileen Windridge after one of our poetry walks in the dunes (in the days when we could meet there and talk and write together). Although not directly about the dunes, it is a nature poem connecting to the shore a little further up the Sefton coast . . . 

The Arrival of the Pink Footed Geese

The greatest compensation for summer’s fading glory,

Can sometimes seems so long in coming: 

Well after the first morning nip had called attention

To something not yet quite believed, though the quality of light had softened so.  

An age it seems since carried sounds became more muffled 

And the hedgerow spiders’ webs displayed a thousand spangled gems at dawn.

I look and listen out for your arrival.

Oh yes, wonderful are the turning leaves to gold and russet; 

And what a treat to forage in the fields; to gather conkers still protected in their prickly shells;

To watch the children crunching through the gutters with delight; 

And taste some of the garden apple harvest.  Yet

For me the best arrives with you. I wait with practiced patience.

Sometimes September’s nearly over and expectation still hovers on my margins.

The days grow shorter; gathering in the logs is now a daily task;

Strictly and Bake-off are in full flow and late summer clothes have

Long been stowed away. 

But when you come, always at the least expected moment, 

While bringing in the wheelie bin or clearing breakfast things,

I’m stilled.

Just one cry at first, a yell as if of triumph, taut, loud and heralding,

Before the sky above my world becomes a ‘V’ of joy.

On and on you come, first this one leads, now that one takes its turn,

Clamorous and rejoicing; the drama of it all! 

You heroes of the sky, a thousand mile journey nearly at an end on Marshside’s shore.

My heart leaps in welcome!  How blessed to be alive.

“They’re here!” I call to those within. 

And then all quietens, as you settle over marshy land to rest.

In all the season’s turning, you’ll be my company throughout the darkest morns and closing afternoons to come: signals of wintry hope, healthiness of nature ‘s cycles turning.  

You’ll stay until the call of home returns, when April’s spring time shoots are growing bolder-

Then you will rise again as one and take your leave for breeding grounds familiar and feathers new.  

 

Eileen Windridge