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

The Sands Of Time

The sands of time eroded that
broad smile from your face but
of that carefree ebullient character
I still can see some trace

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 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

Cockle Pickers

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

The Hill Fort

A circular fort on the brow of a hill
I walk back in time as I go in
Moss covers the exterior ditch
Ancient beeches flourish within

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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