Comments about John Silkstone
Where Warm Thermals Flow
Down in the hollow that’s known as the Dell
The Ash and the Oak are blooming in spring.
Forest floor painted with nature’s bluebell
While high in the branches birds nest and sing.
Out of the nest there peeks a small fledgling
Not ready for flight though craving to go,
With wings open wide in blue skies soaring
To be in the air where warm thermals flow.
On terra firma where man has to dwell
Stands a young boy who’s hoping and wishing,
To fly on high with a sleek Philomel
That’s turning and soaring, dipping and gliding.
Facing the sky ...