Patchwork Poem by Roger Taber

Dusk, a patchwork quilt spread
over trees and meadows;
Warren, set, foxhole, well hid
from prying eyes;
Late birds on slight, misty wing
heading for the nest;
Walkers, ramblers, hastily
checking compasses;
Children at play looking out
for text messages;
Middle England, on the edge
of things temporal;
Green campaigners counting
hard won laurels;
Curtain closing on one last peep
at a hazy beauty;
Tasting raw smells of earthiness
and buttermilk sky;
Empathy with a nightingale’s
plea to be left in peace; .
Random stars brought down,
like clay pigeons...
by bonfires in back gardens
always taking liberties;
Bats, alley cats, all putting a shine
on the Sandman’s boot...
whose task to get us ready
for the next clay shoot;
World, coming together briefly
to try and patch us up