We had paddled all morning,

So we ground our boats on the nearest land,

And stopped for a break.

We gathered what dry sticks and leaves

We could find,

Built a bonfire,

Put our kettle over it,

Made a cup of tea,

And spent an hour

In civilised conversation.

© Caro Ness 2016

25 timber wolves,

Following the alpha female,

Form a single file

To conserve energy

In deep, deep snow.

Their goal?

Hunting bison.

A pack this large

Has no natural predators,

But is needed

To bring down

Such a large prey.

© Caro Ness 2016

  Photo: David Attenborough for BBC’s The Frozen Planet series 2011

Just a meandering line

Of footprints in the snow

To mark our journey

Nothing is changed

And yet everything seems alien

When buried beneath the snow

So perhaps our perambulation

Is more circuitous

Because there are 

No familiar features

But at least we have each other

© Caro Ness 2016 

As one perfect wave 

Crashed onto the beach,

The water was decorated 

With seams of purest gold

The tug of the tide

The only sign

Of life

Bar a seagull

Passing by

© Caro Ness 2015

I needed to walk home,

But in the shortest time,

The world turned

Monochrome 

With few distinguishing features,

Including me.

© Caro Ness 2015 

Instead of reaching for the stars,

I choose the gift of life,

Adam’s Ale,

Some rainwater cupped

In a flower-head,

To restore me.

So I reach down,

Tentatively,

And gently imbibe.

© Caro Ness 2015 

Found in moist, broad-leaved forests,

And near well-shaded, private streams,

This tiny, jewel-like bird,

Is considered unlucky by some locals,

Living in the Andaman and Nicobar Islands

And South-West India.

© Caro Ness 2015 

The cranes marched across the skyline

Like monstrous 21st century dinosaurs,

Terrible yet magnificent.

© Caro Ness 2015 

Leaves in Autumn, leaves in Fall,

Without any discernible effort at all,

Hang like  faceted jewels on the tree,

In a grand technicolour symmetry,

Purple, burgundy, crimson, green,

Clustered  colours with a definite sheen.

© Caro Ness 2015 

We couldn’t resist 

Buying the house

It had a well-worn look

Comfortable somehow 

And touches of that particular blue

An aqua, turquoise, blue-green 

That is unique to France

But it was the bougainvillea 

Tenderly wrapping 

It’s colour and warmth

Around the upstairs window

That sold it to us

© Caro Ness 2015