Poem: Figures of eight

Above one of the houses at the back of our garden there is a man who keeps homing pigeons, which he's trained to fly in figures of eight. Stunning and beautiful to watch. But you have to wonder, do they not feel a little dizzy after a while?

Figures of eight

Figure of eight,

Figure of eight.

All that you fly in are

Figure of eight!

By rights you'd get dizzy

And hit chimney pots,

Or get lost and land on

A crane by the docks,

or even fall into

Someone's pegged up socks

But somehow you make it home safe, never late,

After flying your figures of eight.

TheWeeScottie

Poem: Buzzing bee

Sitting on the step down from my kitchen you get a great view of the back garden. Spring having recently arrived, we now have buzzing visitors. This poem's written about one such visitor.

Buzzing bee

What must it be like

To roam round my garden all day

Noisily making your way.

Visiting flowers

Like stops on the bus

Why don't you come visit us?

Buzzing your way through

The hedges and grass

Adding a flavour of class

To the yellow and purple

That grows on my lawn

Working to sunset from dawn

always the worker

You don't seem to stop

Except when the rain comes down,

plip, plop,

And away to your hive

You are gone in a buzz

Orange and black,

All covered in fuzz

Buzzing bee,

Why don't you come visit us?

TheWeeScottie