DUSK WALKING AT STAITHES...

 Dusk Walking At Staithes…

The tranquility soon magnified,

So that I felt intrusive

To the solitude of Ridge Lane

At dusk, a peace broken

Only by the objections from a flock

Of bleating stern faced sheep,

Whose lambs were like puppets, operated

Theatrically by strings…

The equanimity soon mollified,

So that I felt inclusive,

Despite the parched landscape, sore for rain

In which night sounds had woken;

And my expectations ran amok,

As I glared into voids, scarily steep,

Where scrub and fractured branches proliferated

 In the eeriness from the sounds night brings…   

Pete Ray

23rd April 2021

Walking up Ridge Lane near Staithes, I did see serins and swallows, amongst a few other small birds…

It was however, so quiet, chilly but really dry. 

The drops at each side of the lane were dramatic and one looked down upon complete trees, just metres from the edges of the verges.

No badgers or foxes though, just daft male pheasants leaping against wire mesh and bouncing from it, plus the sheep which seemed displeased with my appearance and thus bleated loudly in bass tones…