Mcdonald's Land. Poem by PAUL COLVIN

The spider’s silken woven web
That glistens in the sun,
It dances in the gentle breeze
Between the pond and lawn.

It wraps itself ‘round rustic bench
And waltzes through the air,
Past leaves and shrub, o’er boulder and stone
And through the early misty morn.

In the pond there are no fish
And the fountain now has ceased.
But plants and pots of every size
Now bring this place to life.

The little island of a lawn
Encroached by trees and fauna,
Surrounded by a giant hedge
This is all part of their home.

Telegraph pole stands high and tall
Surveying all below,
From decking to shed and way beyond
It has the ultimate view.

The pergola, all made by hand
Is ageing with the time
This way and that ivy entwines
Adding to this country feel.

A magpie sits in yonder tree,
The bringer of bad luck.
The sun has gone and in its place,
Is now the Scottish rain.

The Scottish rain, that smirry rain,
The kind that goes right through you,
You’re fresh of face but soaked right through
That cursed Scottish summer.

It doesn’t last and autumn leaves
Are covered in a golden glaze.
The rain and sun have just combined
And now throws off a mist of haze.
The wire basket looking up
At the pole which holds the line,
Is showing age with nature’s art
Now painted verdigris.

The squirrel cowers on flower bed
Its swishing bushy tail aglow
It stops, it turns and then decides
To dart under the shed to hide.

The greens, the purples and colours blue,
Blend in so well with Autumn hues.
Old masters tried in vain to paint
This masterpiece of colour.

The skies are blue with pinkish clouds
Red berries on distant trees stand out
The decking with its garden chairs
Inviting us to join us to share.

We all sit out and soak the sun
Not knowing when the rain will come
And marvel at this painted land
The land that they call home.