Every day is different. The light on the water changes all the time. Sometimes the bay looks dramatic and foreboding, sometimes soft and gentle. Whatever the season, it is always beautiful.
The swans are returning to spend the winter here and watching them on my dog walking escapades is a joy.
Now, I would never describe myself as a poet, but I do occasionally dabble with poetry and enter the odd poem in a monthly online competition.
How could I not feel inspired by these glorious birds?
Aren't they poetic?
My poem is not strictly a haiku, even though it follows the syllable 'rule'.
Day dawns pink, and clear
across the bay swans breakfast
on sedges and weeds
Do let me know if you've enjoyed this post and I'll see you in a couple of weeks.