Out on a limb
Hanging on a thread
A crystal swings and turns
Capturing lights reflected.
Like my life.
A brief flash of fire in the dark.
fire
Christmas in Warwick
From Westgate tower to castle walls
By gentle ways the gradient falls
And all the time you laugh and smile
Bringing pleasure to the mile.
Past little shops and alleyways
We wander on these rainy days
While in the church the choir sings
Of all the joys that Christmas brings.
Turning homeward though square
We stop in cosy cafes there
And by the fire of logs that flame
In winter warmth I’m glad you came
To spend this coldest month with me
And decorate our Christmas tree
With gifts that only you could bring
And secret notes the angels sing
I’m Only a Wolf
trees, grass, birds,
clouds adrift in a clear winter’s sky,
her scent on the frozen air
i am waiting to watch for the smoke and the spark
and the fire that burns bright in her hearth
hoping it won’t burn low in the dark
there is fear in this strong attraction
that the forest may ignite
if she let me in i would stay here sometimes
I’d curl closer
I’d lay on her cold little feet
but she doesn’t know what i want
neither do i
it’s a very strong instinct that keeps me here
without her I feel less complete
Peaceful Moments
there is a time to be at peace
there is a time to ask no questions
there is a time to stop all wandering thoughts
lay quite still and feel
there are times of such perfection
i wonder if they’re real
time is always passing
no joy or pain is lasting
here beside the fire
listening to your breath
there is quiet satisfaction
in open simpleness
Back Again
The fire is laid.
The house is furnished
and here we are,
hopeful lovers,
passing by this way again.
No doubt the storms may sometimes blow.
We both still need to learn and grow.
This time though, it’s not the same.
Fear wont drive us both away.
The fire burns warm.
I fixed the roof against the rain.
This time darling,
through your tears,
you grew strong.
I couldn’t leave.
I had to stay.
You’re not alone.
We made it home.
No Home
every land is empty
i wander here and there
remembering the other times
i travelled here alone
~ without you there’s no home
time is passing slowly
the fires are turned to ash
i seek new wood to burn for you
a flame to light the way
but you can’t see the beacons
you’re too far away
the birds still sing
the river flows
i know these trodden ways
~ wherever i may roam
without you there’s no home
Hidden Daffodils
the day is dim and poorly lit,
clouds are gathering in the west,
the leaves are shivering on the trees,
my shoes are worn, my pockets thin,
there’s no money left again,
the forecast warns of storms and rain
the shadows underneath the trees are full of hidden daffodils
the windows creak and draughts blow in
how bad can this old house become
there’s not much here to laugh about
this sort of joke is lost on me
the tap is dripping in the bath
the fire wont light, my cat is sad,
she’s curled up in a huddled ball
there’s nothing left to eat at all
the shadows underneath the trees are full of hidden daffodils
counting blessings I find some,
there’s still a roof above my head,
i still live, i still breathe,
my head is full of memories,
i can think, i can dream,
and winter always turns to spring
the shadows underneath the trees are full of hidden daffodils
The Loving Cup
When the storms of winter blow
and windows rattle, waters freeze
and the fire burns very low,
I’ll bring you home and wrap you up.
Our lights still twinkle in the dark
and we will drink the loving cup.
Mud Child (a Haibun)
My first true love was earth, dry earth and water mixed, piling dirt in mounds, trying to shape the mud. Digging, digging, digging, squatted on the earth, pouring water in to make a captured pool. I watched it soak away.
Broken finger nails
Scrabbling at resistant earth,
Burrowing with worms.
Alone I worked day after day, shaded by the Yews, until the puppy came, near as old as I, and just as keen to dig. We worked on side by side, driven by curiosity, searching for the truth or an ancient bone. The earth flew out behind us as we dug the hole.
When would water rise?
Could we find the fearsome fire?
Could we reach the source?
Stopped by tangled roots.
Water ran between my palms,
Mud sucked at my feet.
We ran off to play,
Covered head to toe in earth.
We’d dig another day.
Peaceful
it’s a quiet early morning in springtime
rooftops arise from a gentle grey mist
the dawn streets are in silence and empty
and all in the drowsy town are asleep
it’s then i go out, in to the garden
it is then that my heart, sighing, grows still
in peace, alone with the trees
it’s a quiet time of day in the summer
when the dusk starts to fade slowly away
the sun sinks behind the far distant hill
and the birds in their nests lower their songs
with an occasional voice they settle
it is then that my heart, sighing, grows still
in peace, my mind flies away
it’s a quiet autumn day by the river,
a mirror, shining, reflecting the sky,
where white swans silently glide by in dreams
and the willows bow, heavy-headed,
a soft breeze makes the calm water shiver
it is then that my heart, sighing, grows still
in peace, lost in the beauty
it’s a quiet winters day at the fireside
coals caverns burn in a cast iron grate
casting shadow as flames leap and fade
imagination wanders in landscapes
the world outside grows forgotten and dark
it is then that my heart, sighing, grows still
in peace at the end of the day
The Dreaming Path 