The First Whack Of Light Poem by Mark Heathcote

As a boy, I loved verdant virgin lands
the first whack of light peeking through the mist
glistening-like a golden cloak sun-kissed
and nature's volume going through its radio bands
I loved wands of droplets weighted just so
the silent dew cannot enumerate
-watching robin redbreast reverberate
his shrill bloated song to what do we owe

-this honour of your presence, little friend.
Why does the earthworm turn tail with the snail?
Does your red jersey; scold their eyes, offend.
As one kingdom ascends upon the vale
-another descends blindly as a mole, a bat
lucky is I in my bright habitat.