I love the sun upon my shoulders
Rain steam in summer on hot stone smoulders
Thunder roars to spectacular lightning
If sometimes it’s even a little bit frightening.
Even the fog can have a good side
You can take yourself into it, to hide
And snow, the beauty for all to behold
Heralds the story of the birth retold.
But there is an element I’ve come to fear
It is my enemy when it gets too near
I try to avoid it come what may
It’s the wind, it just takes my breath away.

©Joe Wilson – Elemental…2015

The storm…



The wind howled drowning out the shrieks of crows
As they harried and swooped at the buzzard above
Forcing him yet again to drop his hard-won prey
And as the clouds thickened, and sky darkened,
All signs of light started to fade from the day.
A mighty thunderous storm was surely on its way.

Once more, I emptied the bucket, that now
Seems to permanently live in the loft
Always waiting, to catch that single drop of water
That somehow manages to find its way
Through the edge of the roof tiles, to drip
In perfect correlation with the rain.

Then it began…

It started with a gentle pitter-patter
On the sun-lounge roof where it is always first noticed
Soon lightning flashed in its startling iridescence
Of pink and blue, to prove to us its presence
Shortly followed by the long mighty crash
Of thunder as it tried desperately to catch up

And with it came a reservoir of rain

At the windows it rushed so break-neck fast
It seemed they would surely just burst or smash
A bird-table outside in the garden fell
With a loud breaking-to-pieces crash
And flower pots took to the air in unison.

Jugglers may spin plates around on sticks
I’ve seen more than a dozen spinning round
But the wind has no boundaries and hurled up high
Plastic pots of all colour and size and shape
Outside the window such a staggering sight
The pots now looked as if they were Heaven bound.

And then it stopped…

As suddenly as it had begun, the lightning disappeared
The thunder, after a last weak gentle rumble, fell silent
The rain changed to a light drizzle and finally stopped
It was as if it knew it had other places to call, and it had.
And in it’s wake the sun peered wearily from behind the clouds
Daylight returned, and once more a sense of calm descended.

And as the wind gradually faded to a gentler breeze
And saplings that had bent over stood up again like trees
A small cascade of flower pots quickly fell to the ground
And added to the mess that the short storm had left
I turned my back and walked away to my den
That would be a tidying task for who knows when!

©Joe Wilson – The storm…2015

Seasonal Acrostic…



 Winter has dumped her bounty upon us again
 In snow-covered landscapes which to some are a pain
‘Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible’
Tractors pulling cars and more patients in hospital
Eventually it thaws and it all goes quite hoary
Returning our pothole-filled roads in all of their glory.

Spring is on its way though, so be of good cheer
Plants that were hidden now start to appear
Remember resolutions you made at New Year
In front of your friends who’ll remind you I fear
Now get on your bike as you promised you’d do
Get fitter this year, it’s a good thing to do.

Summer comes in with a rush of bright colour
Up comes the grass and the mower bag gets fuller
Mimosa and marigolds are out in full show
Mild summer breezes are starting to blow
Even as the nights start to draw in again
Red skies at night hold off much of the rain.

Autumn arrives with the wind through the trees
Unsticking leaves that have held on with ease
Taking them all on a trip through the air
Upstart that it is drops some here and some there
Many leaves are golden, others are bright red
Now dying back ready for winter instead.


©Joe Wilson – Seasonal Acrostic…2015

The trawlerman’s wife & the 1953 spring-tide disaster…

Mablethorpe 2 Feb 1953


A little dot of light in the distance
Signalled that they were on their way home
She was waiting at her own insistence
As the trawler drew closer through the foam.

Her man had taken another man’s place
And he sailed with yesterday’s tide
But their baby was due in only three days
She wanted him back on dry land by her side.

It caused her to reflect on her father
He’d been lost in the’53 spring tide
That had raced down the east coast of England
Brushing trawlers and ferries to one side.

They called it ‘The Big Flood’, it was really that bad
It happened unexpectedly
Two and a half thousand, including her dad
Were drowned and swallowed by the sea.

January thirty-first into February one
The storm raged like no other before
Then it turned out to sea and was suddenly gone
Leaving death and devastation in it’s maw.

The trawler was pulled into the harbour
And her husband jumped the jetty and ran
He took her into his arms and she worried no more
He was home, he was safe, and her man.


©Joe Wilson – The trawlerman’s wife & the 1953 spring-tide disaster…2015

Autumn’s arrival…

Autumn leaf


Walking down the narrow footpath

That skirts along the tiny rill

I see the leaves all going red

But clinging on to branches still.

The redwings picking berries

Till their crops are all packed full

It’s all hubbub and chatter

Never a moment is dull.


And by the time we next walk round

The village green adjacent

The chill begins to penetrate

We are in Autumn nascent.

Trees growth begins to falter

The sap gets drawn back down

And leaves begin their annual fall

And land in heaps without a sound.


Slowly all the leaves fall down

The sycamore and ash and lime

The ground is strewn with many kinds

We’re in the Autumn prime.

But wait…there are a few leaves left

They rattle as strong winds blow

They’re oak and beech still hanging on

They’re often the last to go.


©Joe Wilson – Autumn’s arrival…2014


A Windy Day by the Sea…

Walking along on the shingle spit
At Keyhaven near to Milford on Sea
You can almost touch the Isle of Wight
Less than a mile away o’er the lea.

Crab-fishing next at Mudeford Quay
With Lizzie and Sam on the nets
When off flies my hat which then lands in the sea
Chase is given but I’m taking no bets.

Later, me new-hatted, we sit by a pub
Enjoying our lunch and a chat
And we laugh at the turn of events in the day
Particularly at the flight of my hat.

Wearily later to our lodgings we go
Chicken Cacciatore for dinner, by me
We then all collapse and nod off to sleep
This just always will happen by the sea.

©Joe Wilson – A Windy Day by the Sea…2014

Moving forward

Sondervig, Denmark (a cool windy day along the seashore) Bev Craig White
Sondervig, Denmark (a cool windy day along the seashore) Bev Craig White


Blow hard the wind on the stony seashore
blow all the cobwebs from out of your soul
sadness and sorrow no longer belong there
it’s time to refresh and feel once again whole.

Crisp are the winds as they ease fears away
starting a dawn of a clear brand new day
face to the sun and look forward to life
go for the future and a purposeful way.

Look to tomorrow, there’s no going back
beyond the horizon and over the crest
move honestly forward and aim to do well
and effort and promise will help with the rest.


©Joe Wilson – Moving forward 2014

First Snow

There’s a leaf on a branch on a tree in my garden
It’s a solitary leaf, as the rest have all gone
It must have hung on and hung on like Tarzan
For as I say it’s now just a one.

The strong wind out there just never seems to tire
It blows me so cold and with such force
So I’ll sit and I’ll write by my lovely log fire
Till the wind finally changes it’s course.

Winter’s coming and with it we’ll be getting some snow
Though we don’t get it as bad as some other folks do
But our love for it changes as the older we grow
And we feel the cold that much more too.


The Wind’s Crazy Dance

The wind blows hard and the leaves merrily prance
Flitting about like characters in some hysterical dance
High in the air they fly like a train
As if held aloft by an invisible chain

Held there in a perfect symmetrical stance
Then its off again in the wild crazy dance.

Round and round they dance in a ring
The wind makes them dance, and it seems to sing
He’s in control now, the king of the skies
Blowing about anything as much as he likes.

First there’s a crack, then a branch hits the ground
A tile from a roof falls to a great crashing sound
Window panes rattle as the wind rushes about
Making such a noise as some even fall out.

And then the wind drops and the noise is no more
The things in the air? They just fall to the floor.