‘When you reach old age, nature wants you dead!’,
Or, ‘nature asking why aren’t you dead yet?’.
On reaching old age, something like this said.
Radio programme’s message that I get.

Some people continue despite the threat.
Must have done something right, or have the luck.
Carry on nonchalantly. Not dead yet.
Happy within this existence, that stuck.

Against the odds, or is it ‘defying’?
Inevitable, put off; not for now.
Whenever is, will be mortifying,
but stay as long as nature will allow.

A mystery, for how long keep alive.
Until the time nature’s will does arrive.


Mallard. Cormorant. Little Egret. Teal.
What Wildlife Watch from the Hyde can reveal.
Oyster Catchers. They’re the ones with long bills.
You might even spot, here, a common seal.

No idea what a Widgeon looks like.
I think a Bar-Tailed Godwit’s colour’s bright.
Any number of Gulls that swoop and fight.
A Kingfisher may flash by, in your sight.

Brent. Not commercial or crude oil, but Geese.
Take a photo for RSPB mag.
About a Mute Swan, some great words release.
And always the chance there will be a Shag.

There must be fish for these, … and the Moorhen.
For humans, too, at Old Smokehouse, Maldon.


Imagine them sky soaring and diving,
the late spring weather more to their liking.
Swifts, in airborne multitudes, arriving.
On air currents, brilliantly cycling.

Imagine, all the way here from so far.
In African paradise, our winter.
Returning, meet no immigration bar.
Flight. Passed check-ins, they easily enter.

And now they dance up high in their new home.
Aeronautics of the highest order.
Visibly. Speedily, the distance flown
Their newly reclaimed space, without border.

Great sweeping movement, they display. I see.
Admire their expression of being free.


Cell division, early reproduction.
But must be cell creation and growth, too.
The cells new-born on their introduction.
Not aged, as if directly parental.

Carries parent genes, but unique itself.
Adapts to the environment changes.
Own form alters very likely by stealth.
Perhaps, influenced thinking arranges.

That innocent at the start; that all new,
clearly a factor that’s exceptional.
What is the theory for it, which is true.
Cells mainly blank without any recall.

Whiteboard, to later mark, the metaphor.
Function of birth, about which should know more.


One cell impregnation, and division.
Earliest life, carried on until now
Although there’s genetic code revision
with such complexity as will allow.

Yet, however dense the bodily form,
the next to be born start in the same way.
A single egg with single sperm, as norm.
Singular starting, the process that’s stayed.

A link, surely, back to the beginning.
Maybe, initially hermaphrodite.
That aspect changed so the act more thrilling.
Be more likely, if also a delight.

The way to make, a simple provision.
The earliest days, how next life given.


Sex, I think, should be considered sixth sense.
I know, allocated ‘intuitive’,
But that’s as maybe, and does it make sense?
My one’s real, but may be too sensitive.

See. Hear. Smell. Taste. Touch. And now, I say, Sex!
It incorporates first five to its cause,
yet, distinctly does more, as one expects.
So much about it that deserves applause.

A sensory function like the others.
Pretty sensational, and is innate.
Without, unborn, and a shame for lovers.
Not thought of as sense before. Not too late.

‘Anticipate something soon’, to attest,
seventh. Sex as sixth, ‘though some will protest.


The most basic ‘matter’ must be nothing.
Could, in theory, function like a clean slate.
At the start, overwhelmingly the thing.
Taking on substance, its important fate.

An explosion of matter spreading out.
Gases, solids, to the smallest microbes.
Creates environments to be about.
And where one is suitable, life evolves.

An intense, compacted core of it all;
Pushed out with force to form the universe.
Grows, but by degree subject to recall.
Dead star sink holes, process, puts in reverse.

They collect, absorb, crush what’s near. Combine.
Until around it, there’s nothing in time.


Yellow water lily flowers upright
on flat, broad leaves on the river surface.
Thin, leaf strips, too, patterned in clusters tight,
with long, thicker reeds behind, in their place.

And beyond them, close - , multi – leafed bushes.
And trees, one much taller than the others.
Still, or slow moving, yet one plant, rushes.
Its name. Greenness, the river bank covers.

The yellow water flowers, though, stunning.
Colour of the Sun, or brightest butter.
Symbol of peace, but also joy coming.
Connects to Soul, in way cannot utter.

They are beautiful, on their fluid home.
Sensational, their existence, now shown.


I must have been in here all of this time.
The consistent name indicates that so.
And the birthdays, year on year, that are mine.
But the me of then, seems gone long ago.

Cells coming, going, replaced, without trace,
so I’m told, is very strange. Transforming.
Bones and organs, meanwhile, stay in their place.
And face familiar that see each morning.

But with age, it does change perceptively.
So who is this new one that now is me?
And, ‘old me’s disappear to, quietly?
Went without a goodbye, apparently.

Realise, what seem fixtures, transient.
Morphing along as my lifetime gets spent.


Cerebral, I think. Cerebral, it is.
Cerebrum, source; ‘though too, cerebellum?
Brain giving my body a conscious fizz.
What I have to say, and how I tell them.

Cerebration; in part the unconscious.
Even memories to write and recall.
Were it just fight, or flight, or fear, monstrous.
Think I have much more to give. Cerebral.

Ability to Love, of importance.
When be with another, not to convulse.
Altruism, and nurturing, advance.
Sustaining, … improving life, the impulse.

‘New’-cortex. Reason. Learn. Stand back and see.
Aware, more, is cerebral. It must be.


The course of the freshet, overflowing,
so, banks underwater in the process.
Natural irrigation for growing.
Soaking below the surface, the excess.

Rainbursts upstream the likely genesis.
Increasing pressure raising the level.
Insistence from source, too much to resist.
Subsequent surge disregarding ‘careful’.

Then there is the great outflow to the sea.
Into the vast expanse, the outpouring.
This, cycle-part that’s elementary
Evaporated loss; this restoring.

Freshly replenishing the land and sea.
Two meanings of freshet, flow immensely.