Poet's Corner

It is not often that this blog delves into the scary realm of poetry, but whilst surfing the internet for plants to attract moths into my garden, I happened upon this by Danske Danridge:

THE Moth is waiting for the night
To poise his feathered wings, untried,
Fresh from their prison, scarcely dried,
And trembling for the trial flight.
“The Rose is dreaming of the Bee:
Perchance my Primrose wakes for me."

The evening wears a gold zone:
One waits and listens like the flower,
She feels her fate and knows her hour.
The night is come, but not alone:
Love's wings are trembling on the air:
All the heart's treasure lying bare

Moths – it’s all about Evening Primrose, Nicotine plants, Jasmine, Honeysuckle and Phlox apparently.

On a completely unrelated note, take a butcher’s hook at this photograph of a chap from ‘SCAN’ ringing group from a recent trip to Puffin Island:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/petewood1981/5921899721/in/set-72157627161021618

I thought long-line fishing had been banned...

At least some ‘vital’ data will be gathered: birds fish at sea, some live longer than others, some now have to go further than they did in the past to find food etc, etc...

If only we could warn the inhabitants in advance. I was reminded too of a Thoreau line from his book 'Walden.'

 "...if I knew for a certainly that a man was coming to my house with the conscious design of doing me good, I should run for my life..."

Until later.