"At Heysham, it's pylons and wires, almost everywhere you look in front,
lots of straight lines of wires on top of one another running parallel.
And in between the wires the Mipit's are bobbing through in pairs and groups,
Today the skies are generally grey, but by mid morning blue holes fractured the grey,
And guess what, more lines started to appear within them already stretched lines,
But these lines were white and fluffy, and straight, and some thin and some fat,
Some were criss-cross and these lines within the lines were aeroplane lines,
And still the Mipit's kept bobbing through in pairs and groups".
"When I bobbed my head above the "Mount",
I saw Heysham one, or was it two, I really don't know!
Today the sirons were calling so loud,
Just like the one I remember as a child down in East Lancs,
It used to be on the fire station which they would test every week,
It was supposed to warn us of a "bomb raid" then later,
I heard it was to warn us of a nuclear fallout.
With scaffold, tubes and pipes and lots of steam,
And noise so loud came from that grey coloured tower so vast,
Time to quickly retreat below that "Mount" from where I came,
A second or two in time would pass for me to pace descent,
Back into quiet, with feathered friends to watch and count,
This has got to be for me the right side of that "Mount".
Written these two "merged" poems whilst birdwatching at Heysham Nature Reserve
- with the mega number of pylon wires in front of me and the "mount" to my West.
Thursday 26th September 2013