,
Eyes the colour of the veil,
Eyes that draw you in wholesale.

Eyes that speak right to your soul,
Eyes that succour and console.

Eyes that dance and also sing,
Eyes conveying everything.

This study is simple, yet it’s lush,
It is gilded with a purple brush,
A heart-shaped leaf, with a single flaw,
That makes it more beautiful than before,

The symmetry of water,
In a clear reflection,
Brings an image, pure, complete,
Of almost whole perfection.
It stills the mind, it gives one pause,
It deserves a wild applause,
It calms emotion, feeds the soul,
Because it is a perfect whole.

This road is so well-travelled,
Each wooden batten known,
Each bush along its borders,
Marks the time that’s flown.
I recognise the mist that lingers,
That spreads across the forest floor,
I know its chilly fingers,
That grip from times before.
I know this road well-travelled,
The land it passes through,
Above all, I know each twist and turn,
Because this path leads to you…

This is a beautiful hummingbird,
Whose tail feathers are somewhat absurd,
The male has two, violet-blue,
Which he shakes with great derring-do,
To prove to his mate, that he’s the last word!

This Hummingbird is known as Marvellous spatuletail and is found only in the forest edges of a remote valley in northern Peru. They only have 4 tail-feathers and the male has 2 that have a violet-blue elongated disc at the tip. These are waved frantically around in a mating dance to attract a female and to prove that the owner is a good catch.
Information provided by Global Animal Transport LLC
Photo credit: Green Renaissance
facebook.com/greenrenaissance

At a particular, singular time of day,
The sun seems to set on the road home.
As if lending its last rays to perfectly illuminate
A road that is an exercise in imperfect symmetry.
The trees to either side,
Arch and frame the journey,
Each with its own, unique form,
As if enticing you gently,
Into that sunset.

Two Westies just both loved to bathe,
Because they thought it made them look rathe*,
To avoid water on head,
They wore bath hats instead,
And boy did they cut a big swathe!

* archaic word for blooming

Amidst a haze of luscious green
Is the leaf that turned.

Is it wondrous or obscene,
This leaf that now looks burned?

I truly believe this singular thing,
That beauty is found in imperfection.

For me, this beautiful leaf is king,
It demands study and re-inspection.

A splash of green or red or blue,
Azure, purple, orange too,
A dash of yellow, splash of lime,
A technicolour masterpiece quite sublime.
The sun brings to life these coloured panes,
Leaves the cloister floor garnished with rainbow stains.
Whatever happens, this I vow,
I will return to this special place somehow.

The picture is of the Nasir ul Mulk Mosque of Sheraz, Iran

There once was a girl from Macau,

Who decided to draw on a brow,

Nobody knows,

Quite why she chose those,

She thought they might suit her somehow?