On Swifts Hill

"When I saw the photograph taken from Swifts Hill posted on 15 February, this poem, written last week, seemed destined to join it!" Sheila Maddock 2011

 

ON SWIFTS HILL

Wildlife haven, place for picnics, Swifts Hill

Guards the gateway to Slad. Here you can gaze

Miles to the silver ribbon of Severn,

Plunge through beech woods to the valley below,

From the hummocky top hear skylarks sing,

Watch kestrels hover, housemartins soar and

Swifts swoop as they circle their feeding ground.

Underfoot is a carpet of flowers,

Orchids and other rare species, food for

Once common butterflies, moths and bees,

All dependent on this ancient grassland,

Fed by minerals in its limestone bed.

Farms in the quiet valley below doze

Unsuspecting in their patchwork fields, while

In the hazy east, suburban Stroud snakes

Voraciously towards Wades Farm - and Slad.