White bluebells in a narrow
strip of land on Holly Hill
Hampstead : and brambles
with their white buds
tightly packed with life
holly bushes too
with tiny bullet-like buds
on the slender stems
and not a single berry
left by the birds
John Lyons
At the top of Maresfield Gardens
in Hampstead at the front
of one of the houses there’s a holly tree
the lower branches of which hang over
the brick wall close to the pavement
and their leathery leaves are covered
in a fine film of dust and on some
there are signs of damage and decay
but hidden among them
is a solitary bright red berry
sole survivor from last season
and I wonder how the birds
could possibly have missed it
for so long just as I am happy too
to admire the utter simplicity
of its ineffable beauty
John Lyons
The marvel is
that this dead world
that we have all around us
will suddenly spring to life
Yesterday I shivered
under a frosty sky
Out on a Hampstead street
I heard the caw of a magpie
and looking up watched
as it abandoned its nest
high up in the bare branches :
it flew south-south-east
heading for the city centre
Too early for any eggs
to have been laid
perhaps it had merely
paid a call to ensure
that every twig and blade
was in order in preparation
for the new clutch
I thought too
of the homing instinct
that such birds have
such a powerful tool
in the preservation
of the species
and how birds
in their own way
are such masters
of time and space
John Lyons
johnjosephlyons 