Glenluce and Galloway Flyers
Winter warmers
A Flyer's Year A radiant, glowing, sea of light and heat Massages my T shirt clad back,It smoothes and warms my bare arms and neck. A light cooling breeze ripples in pleasant waves,Sparkles of light ricochet off chrome switches,The Sky Larks sing as they rise on unseen bubbles of air. My back creaks and twinges, muscles tight as twisted rope. Freezing rain seeps relentlessly under my upturned collar Clods of wet, heavy clay stick to my shovel like glue,A biting wind whips up the sleet that peppers my face. A filthy, clanging, clawing monster coughs and wheezes it diesel breath It's powerful arm grabbing, destroying and laying waste our pampered ribbon. Deep, slashes of brown cut heavily into the precious carpet of green,Entrails are thrown out and scattered as the wounds fill up in a constantly seeping flow. Hard ribbed black snake veins are laid by bumbling, muddy booted workers. Crude, grey stone is spread and smoothed to cover up the assault. Relentless rain continues to fall like a blanket of unceasing misery as early darkness closes in. But, time will be the master healer, as moons wax and wane and the seasons roll round. New lambs bounce high in the air under the invigorating energy of a revitalised sun. Polished, new creations shine and glint as they roll out onto a healing, verdant runway,It's scars barely show now, and its team of surgeons are pleased. The air is clean and clear, a dome of pale blue, an untainted highway in the sky Impatient eyes, hidden behind protective shades and peaked caps hurriedly fumble and prepare,Ready to zoom and climb, twist and dive, swish and dart in a new and joyous dance of freedom. Dusty blue skies and high feathery clouds meet a shimmering purple horizon,Sheep graze lazily on the plentiful summer moor. Laughter and chatter mixes easily with the sound of whirring pumps, and plopping props. The intoxicating waft of vaporising petrol hangs in the air. Electric motors zip and hum like angry bees at the command of a testing thumb. Transmitters bleep and models reply with cheery tunes to tell them, 'all is well'. Ally Young Nov 201
Glenluce and Galloway Flyers
Winter warmers
A Flyer's Year A radiant, glowing, sea of light and heat Massages my T shirt clad back,It smoothes and warms my bare arms and neck. A light cooling breeze ripples in pleasant waves,Sparkles of light ricochet off chrome switches,The Sky Larks sing as they rise on unseen bubbles of air. My back creaks and twinges, muscles tight as twisted rope. Freezing rain seeps relentlessly under my upturned collar Clods of wet, heavy clay stick to my shovel like glue,A biting wind whips up the sleet that peppers my face. A filthy, clanging, clawing monster coughs and wheezes it diesel breath It's powerful arm grabbing, destroying and laying waste our pampered ribbon. Deep, slashes of brown cut heavily into the precious carpet of green,Entrails are thrown out and scattered as the wounds fill up in a constantly seeping flow. Hard ribbed black snake veins are laid by bumbling, muddy booted workers. Crude, grey stone is spread and smoothed to cover up the assault. Relentless rain continues to fall like a blanket of unceasing misery as early darkness closes in. But, time will be the master healer, as moons wax and wane and the seasons roll round. New lambs bounce high in the air under the invigorating energy of a revitalised sun. Polished, new creations shine and glint as they roll out onto a healing, verdant runway,It's scars barely show now, and its team of surgeons are pleased. The air is clean and clear, a dome of pale blue, an untainted highway in the sky Impatient eyes, hidden behind protective shades and peaked caps hurriedly fumble and prepare,Ready to zoom and climb, twist and dive, swish and dart in a new and joyous dance of freedom. Dusty blue skies and high feathery clouds meet a shimmering purple horizon,Sheep graze lazily on the plentiful summer moor. Laughter and chatter mixes easily with the sound of whirring pumps, and plopping props. The intoxicating waft of vaporising petrol hangs in the air. Electric motors zip and hum like angry bees at the command of a testing thumb. Transmitters bleep and models reply with cheery tunes to tell them, 'all is well'. Ally Young Nov 201
© 2020 Glenluce and Galloway Flyers
© 2020 Glenluce and Galloway Flyers