by Margaret Kiernan
Wind cry, whistles through desolate dark lands furled roots beneath hedgerows cuddle stones from the ditches, while low light and pale pink sky lend promise to the day. Patchwork of cool green fields rolls-into a boundary, of whitethorn trees laid bare, spotted red haws hang on branches, as offerings to the passing rook his contempt to the feast acknowledged, by his caw, caw, caws, echoes along those damp ditches till’ the shadows fall Spring arrives in morning chorus ploughs turnover uncultivated soil while seeds tumble to mingle Soft rain showers with golden sun creates life beneath the sky in harmony awaits the heraldry of August fields, billowing dust.
Delays and restrictions for movement in the time of COVID 19, when Governments compulsory regulations around people travel prevented trips to the Rural hills and other places. The painting was of an Irish landscape painting in early winter. I took inspiration to speak the scene into Life. Waiting for real-time.
Margaret has a background in Human and in Democratic Rights. She is published in several genres. Her pastimes include painting in all mediums. She has grown-up children. She lives with her dog, Molly.