Nightjars and crickets Knit thick dusk with their magic Their puuuuuring and chuuuuuring Wraps me in blanket A clap splits night (hunting habit) Little hopes wing by for lives less tragic. Sanderlings. Initially they go unseen, Dwarfed by the impressive scene, Blending with the dappled shore, But once you see one there are more, and more Become evident, feeding and flitting, scuttling around the thick bed of clams, Indifferent to us, rising and shoaling only when we’re so close we could reach out and... .......They fly right by us, swooping round, then settle in 5 paces; My heart stops. Then races. Two seconds before snow. My camera can’t catch the colours in the sunset the vibrant pinks and reds as seen by eye, my camera can’t fix the swarming of the pink-foots as they fly against the darkening sky. It can’t freeze the hues of pastel blue, the tiny hint of whitish-grey, the flush in your cheeks and the skip in your heart two seconds before snow on a sunny day. Frost flowers. From the coldest of seas In the calmest of hours One day I will see you; Most radiant flowers. And when I watch you gently float I’ll know that life within me grows That whatever spirit I may know Or could conceive Is manifested as I breathe Frozen there in disbelief at Nature’s most beautiful feat.
How I Envy Slumbering Dead. I’m so tired but I cannot sleep Fears haunt my restless bed So fatigued only my bones can weep. Must thoughts I smother still creep Up on me? I re-play each word I said I’m so tired; but I cannot sleep . Am I alone upon this watch I keep? I know my veins grow thick with dread So fatigued only my bones can weep. If I’m the last to slumber seek They’ve swept away the trail to tread I’m so tired; but I cannot sleep. What I’ve sown will I not reap? For fears to thrive they must be fed; So fatigued only my bones can weep. Must I always your approval seek? Rejection swims around my head I'm so tired but I cannot sleep Until crisp light disintegrates this web I weave, I will envy slumbering dead; I’m so tired but I cannot sleep So fatigued only my bones can weep. |
What Is It You Won’t Compromise? In the end you must decide My friend, I’m afraid the hour fades late What is it you won’t compromise? When she pricks thick air with her lies And you almost taste that swinging gate In the end you must decide. When she chips away at your pride Your closed throat swells with bitter hate What is it you won’t compromise? So breathe passive-aggressive sighs How much more do you deserve to take? In the end you must decide. So enter work with seeping, blackened eye How much longer must I, tongue-tied, wait? What is it you won’t compromise? My friend, you came to me and cried But I am not the author of your fate In the end you must decide What is it you won’t compromise? The Ration Generation. Three heart attacks later, Maybe four, And she’s lamenting How much she’s Costing the nation; What with all her medication. Seal birthing colony. Little slugs of the sea Deathly still Gleam white in the dull light I hold my breath until you prove that you can breathe Inhale, exhale with me; Relief. Ghostly wails in the wind Furtive cries Newly left pup bereft At just three weeks, so young for mum to leave Be brave, fish hard, swim free; Believe. My Dad Can’t Play the Saxophone Which isn’t unusual, Granted, But it is his Only dream That’s just for him. Well, that I know of. He’s not the type to talk about these things. Maybe it’s the only one that’s Elusively in reach, Possible, Improbable if Time cannot be cloned And stored. Or paused. But for now, at least, He owns one; Extravagance spurred on By his 60th year And, finally, the funds. |
