Yorkshire Writers' Lunch

My beautiful beech tree, above us it towers, A constant shelter from those April showers. Tall, majestic, standing proud, A leafy protection beneath its shroud. Offering shade on a hot summer day, For family picnics and children at play. Warm sunny evenings drift into night, Calm and still beneath the moonlight.   Memories of Autumn I no longer treasure, Gathering leaves is a toil of a pleasure. Fluttering and falling without a sound, A vibrant carpet soon covers the ground. Crisp and crackling beneath our tree, Its branches stripped bare for all to see. Gnarled and twisted – reaching high, Towards a bleak and wintry sky.   A robin hops by, alone and bold, A solitary snowman stands frozen and cold. Fingers of frost stretch and crawl, Dancing snowflakes, how quickly they fall, Covering the earth now virgin white, Storm clouds gather as day turns to night. There’s no shelter now from the wind and rain, As the journey begins all over again

A Single Sparkler Expecting fireworks? They're stuck in a bucket.   Awaiting sunshine? There's drizzle expected.   Hoping for magic? Then don't look too closely.   The light show of my love is a single sparkler but watch it's trails as it's getting darker. It's worth the wait. A Late Bonfire He starts his bonfire after the night in the confines of his empty drive. He lays out logs and sets them alight and dark smoke climbs well before five.   He throws broken bricks onto this pyre, then twisted scrap metal and acrid acrylic. Old building material burns in his fire and chokes out the neighbours soon after six.   The last thing he chucks onto this blaze is a letter marked ‘official – cease and desist’. It flickers and blackens in illicit malaise but soon becomes ash and easily dismissed.