Misty Mornings

Early morning Mist on the meadow.
Vapour trails, white lines crossing.
Blue sky above, winter sun hangs low,
Along the lane, coloured leaves still falling.

Early morning Mist on the hillside,
Swirling all around at knee height
Can’t see the ground beneath our feet,
Tread with care but savour the sight.

THE HIGH CHAIR

To some it is just a high chair
But to me it’s something else
As the boys are at their wooden table,
On normal wooden chairs. 

Wyre Waters Ebb & Flow

Out along the wild Fylde Coast
Where flowing waters meet
And the River Wyre runs dry,
Where does the rolling sea go
On the ebbing of the tide?