Julie Croad

I am from South Wales, land of lovely scenery, coastline and countryside. My writing is very influenced by nature and the changing seasons of our beautiful planet. We must all work to protect it and supporting Earth Pathways is a wonderful way to do this.

Email: croadjulie@gmail.com

Diary 2024

If you like to touch soft summer grass beneath bare feet
Pause - and you will feel our earth's comforting heat.
If the beauty of a flower is so great it makes you cry.
If you like the feel of raindrops from a cloudy summer sky.
If you love the taste of water from a gushing mountain stream.
If you can smell salt water in the air even when you dream.
If you hesitate and close your eyes when the soft breeze strokes your face.
If you’d rather be outside than any other place.
If feeling sunlight on your skin always makes you smile.
If when a quiet wind blows you can hear her gently sigh.
If the beauty of an ancient tree moves you to shed some tears.
If you can be calm inside even through your fears.
If in a quiet autumn evening you can feel the seasons turn
but look only forward and for summer’s passing do not yearn.
If you love to feel soft grains of sand between your toes.
If you appreciate the loveliness of the winter snows.
If your heart is open to all these things and more
then you are a nature spirit and all wild things adore.

Nature Spirit © Julie Croad 2012


Contributors Showcase

My realm is the land
though I leave no steps.
I can breathe in the oceans
down to hidden depths.
I soar through the skies,
to heaven I am bent.
Who knows where I came from
or where I’ll be sent.
Ranging high in the mountains
where the air’s chill and thin.
I’m in fertile valleys
lingering still.
In the midst of the greenwood
I make my home.
Across the vast deserts
I’m happy to roam.
I can swim up the rivers
against all the tides.
The tallest of treetops
is where I reside.
Look for me in meadows
and fields of wild flowers.
I linger down on the sea shore
counting the hours.
I’m found in the ice
all glossy and white.
Caves deep in the earth
ever black as the night.
Each one of you knows me
for I’m everywhere.
But many don’t see me,
or sense that I’m there.
Some try to extinguish
the light in my eyes
With misunderstanding
intolerance, lies.
There are few that appreciate
the gifts I can give –
positivity, joy
and contentment to live.
Small changes can alter
our world for the good.
It may well be hard,
but you know that you should-
respect one another
and all that’s around.
Tiny birds in the sky,
crawling things underground.
Help your fellow humans,
give them what they need.
What matters skin colour,
religion or creed?
Give a hug or a handshake
lose the gun, bomb or knife.
Recognise I am precious -
because my name is Life.

Prayer for Life © Julie Croad

September morning wakes slowly.
Languidly stretching. Yawning.
Head muzzy in cotton wool clouds.
Grey blotches threaten rain.
Still air. A breath held then exhaled
Sunbeams, at first timid, then bolder
drawing back cloudy curtains to reveal –
unbroken blue, gold
and the promise of an exceptional day.

September Morning © Julie Croad

Leave alone our wild places.
Too many are now tame.
Ordered, curbed and managed
they no longer are the same.

Do not disturb our wild places.
Leave them desolate and free
For wildlife makes its home there,
this world is not just you and me.

Do not plough the wild places.
Where will the flowers grow?
Our birds deserve somewhere to nest
and babbling brooks must flow.

Do not spoil the wild places.
Bluebells have a right to live.
The meadow is such a special sight,
a wood has much delight to give.

Do not build on our wild places.
Where will the children run?
To watch the wings of magic
in the last rays of the sun.

Do not destroy the wild places.
Let enchantment linger on.
Dappled sunlight in the woodland,
we’ll surely miss it when it’s gone.

Do not pave the wild places.
We have concrete enough!
Bricks with mortar, wall of stone
and all the human stuff.

Please protect the wild places.
Preserve and make them last.
Or soon all thoughts of wild places
will be memories from the past.

Wild Places © Julie Croad

Your roots are sunken in the earth.
Many years have passed since your birth.
Vast arms that reach up on high,
your fingers seem to brush the sky.
In winter, summer, fall and spring
great beauty to the world you bring.

When in summer wearing green
in town or country you’re a lovely scene.
In autumn you wear russet hues
I’m reminded of my love for you.
In dreary winter you seem almost dead.
Do you, like me, cold weather dread?
Then in the spring you wake again
smile down upon all those you reign.

Oak or elm, birch or cherry,
ash, sycamore, beech or holly,
horse chestnut, cedar, larch or alder.
May you grow in peace, forever taller.

Beauty © Julie Croad

Thank you for the secret places,
and for delight in children’s faces.
Secluded meadows full of flowers
where I can while away the hours.

Tunnels through the mountain halls,
mighty, thundering waterfalls.
Hidden coves among the rocks,
ice cream cones, new summer frocks.

Sheltered valley’s deep in ferns.
A moorland track that twists and turns.
Mountain tops untamed and wild,
warm sun shining in a cloudless sky.

The voice of a burbling brook that sings.
Toadstools grown in fairy rings.
For secret, silent dingly dells,
dappled sunshine, wishing wells.

Flower fragrance everywhere,
pollen grains drift in the air.
Insects hum through giant trees,
gossamer strands that catch the breeze.

To calm your mind and slow your paces,
visit often these secret places.

Secret Places © Julie Croad