Margaret O Driscoll Poems

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The Wild Calls My Soul

Manicured ornate show gardens
To attract visitors, the goal
Flower beds neat and fancy
But the wild calls my soul

A Poem In Stone

Awed by its architecture
I step inside
Gigantic Gothic arches
Rise on either side

Just Passing Through

I took a trip down memory lane
along the byways last September
Pointing out familiar places
and events I well remember

The Market

A hot Summer's day
market stalls everywhere
Smoke rises from the barbeque
customers queue in the square

The Well In The Park

Bull frogs loudly croaking croaking
Amid pond lilies in the midday sun
A black swan displayed his annoyance
head held high strutting at everyone

The Otter

Crossing a wooden bridge
To get to the wood beyond
I glimpse an otter diving
Just beside me in a pond

The Dilisk Gatherers

Way out at low tide mark
Where there are waves of giant kelp
A dilisk gatherer lifting bags on his back
Calls his brother for help

Cockle Pickers

Their work dictated by the tides
Some days they picked at first light
Baskets strapped to their shoulders

I Wish For Them

I wish for them a curious mind
answers to questions they pose
I wish for them a love of nature
interest in all that grows

My Gift To You

Come lie with me on warm grass awhile
Inhale the sweet clover, the scent of pure soil
Walk hand in hand beneath hawthorn trees
White petals floating by in a warm gentle breeze

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