Above the urban April landscape
and the constant buzz of Basingstoke,
stands a memorable hillside
that holds tangible treasures.
This rolling rise is called
Crabtree Plantation.
A verdant paradise
filled with Nature’s wealth.
A skylark arcs across grey skies,
dipping down to the mown grass.
The briefest peck in the earth,
before it ascends tree-wards.
As this keen-eyed aviator
leaves the scene, another
spectacle of the silver sky
unfolds, while the morning intensifies.
A halo dazzles and diverts,
as it embraces the Sun.
A natural beacon blazing,
filled with fire and ice alike.
Cosmic magic has woven
a slick spell in the atmosphere,
projecting energy outwards,
highlighting the hill’s residents.
Walkers spy the halo’s image,
but with a sense of caution.
Knowing its solar source may cause
damage forever, to their sight.
Observing the view at a safe
and carefully slanted angle,
the walkers now climb onwards
underneath the crystal crown.
A return by the sainted skylark,
is announced by its bittersweet call.
The walkers track the movement,
as the bird swoops and swerves.
Calmness is distilled on the breath
of those walkers while they rest
at the apex of the hillside,
that gives surprises as well as hope.
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As always, feel free to give me your feedback about my poetry, in the Comments section. Happy reading!
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