| Scenes of Meersbrook Park, Sheffield, UK.
Meersbrook
Park has come to play a significant part in my life, especially since
leaving work. My local park, it is where I go to enjoy
a glimpse of nature, to reflect on events, to occasionally write or
draw, or to just relax. One of the many parks within Sheffield, it
has views over the city - reputedly one of the greenest in Europe, an
image that is in opposition to an area that is still often regarded as
the 'steel capital' of England. The poems and notes here will, I hope,
give a glimpse of why this park has come to be so
important to me.
Winter in the Park
Black-winged gulls circle as rays
from winter’s sun illuminate the whiteness
of throats and bellies,
cries plummeting as wind bristles dry leaves.
Damp bark of fallen logs, black and peeling,
reveals white flesh of storm-victim limbs
searched by a blackbird
until scared into flight by dogs
playing chase around a holly bush.
In the city beyond it seems a procession
of ancient torch-bearing soldiers
marks out grids of terraced rows in the dusk;
red tail-lights and white beams of traffic
travelling the maze between burnished buildings,
engine's resonance the backing group
for voices, footsteps, child's laughter
and skaters chimes on tarmac,
serenading me on graffiti'd bench
until frosty breezes force departure.
Two grey squirrels, the first twitching nose
at tree-trunk's base before he scampers on,
quickly followed by his pursuer, tail erect,
both disappear behind and up an ancient oak,
watched by dark rectangular eyes set
in red-bricked walls of tall Victorian houses,
century-old silent observers of booted walkers,
cawing magpies, and black white-socked kittens
playing safari-stalk-and-hunt in the long grass
during the moonlit hours in Meersbrook Park.
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Eclipse, August 11th, 1999
(My notes on the partial eclipse.)
10.50: Loads of people here - most of them sitting on the grass at
the top of the hill - quite a party atmosphere. I decided to sit in
comfort on a bench lower down. People speak as they pass - one woman,
puffing from the effort of climbing the hill, gasped 'I hope its worth
it!'. I have my prepared CD case with its mirror and a sheet of paper
on card but because of high cloud cover the image is hazy. So doing
what I shouldn't - looking directly at the sun, squinting, which probably
means like many others my eyesight will suffer!
11.25: Well, the fullest moment of the partial eclipse has passed,
the sun is visible but there's a shadowy dusky light over the park.
The birds didn't stop singing but the feeling of strangeness rippled
around the people here - subdued, slightly spooky. A woman nearby informs
me that it's raining in Cornwall where the total eclipse is supposed
to occur, so we may have had a better view after all.
11.35: Wandering back up the hill, a family shared their 'cornflake
box' viewer with me, far more effective than my feeble sheet of paper.
Shadows are reappearing - they virtually disappeared despite the
brightness of the sun for several minutes. Groups of children playing,
their parents chatting, many having picnics of crisps, lemonade and
other snacks. A general sense of enjoyment, a shared experience that
they may never see again...
New Year celebrations
In the cold and dark we walked up to the park, bottle of champagne
and plastic glasses stuffed in pockets, torch showing us the way.
At the top we joined the throngs of people, little knots of activity,
whispered huddles of loving couples, lively drinkers.
A radio is on, a timekeeper. But we go more by the flashes of fireworks
that suddenly light the sky, the bangs that echo around the city hills,
the delighted cheers of the onlookers.
We kiss, wish each other the normal happy new year. Drink our champagne.
Greet friends. Exchange gossip, news. Watching the continuing displays
of pyrotechnics as we talk.
The year 2000 has begun.
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Death in the Park
Stiff it lies
in rotting vegetation
Victim maybe of wars
raged between clans
of magpie and crow
who vie for the best
site to rear their young
and teach them
in ways of nurture
battles of the sky.
Lesser birds flee
at the raucous
celebration.
Victory to the crow.
Step nearer.
A log, black
home for beetles
fungal growth
dead limb
giver of life.
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