Frail

frail
with soul on fire
with tired desire
to burn and bleed with solid need
risen and rising
and yet hold back
lest the cracks open hard
cutting the cords
without reward

Embrace

Nothing is permanent
Nothing is real
Nothing surrounds us
The nothing can’t feel

Be happy with you
Embrace all you are
Step out of the nothing
And you’ll sure go far

Permanent is nothing
Real is untrue
Your surroundings are here
Make your real come true

A swarm of sunlight

A swarm of sunlight
from a crack in the fluid grey
strikes the surface

One after the other
each particle of light
stings my eyes

Looking up I see trees bending
as the clouds rush on by
temporarily closing the door

My eyes hold the ghosts
and as the wind whistles its darting song
the swarm returns to burn through

Distance and time
reveals itself in the smallest of moments
when we feel the heat

Maybe the darkness
intensifies the desire
of and for the buzz

her song of life

I can smell the earth
after the rain

I can sense its delight
its forgiveness
and its compassion

I can feel a slight chill
after the rain

a breath
a breathing of textured sighs
a whispered kiss

I can smell the grass, the flowers; life
after the rain

I can imagine the gentle hiss, of the escape
its joy of knowing birth
and the freedom of release

I can smell and see the earth
during the rain

petals sodden
joyful, joyful, dancing
and her song of life

smells so good

Flying Ants

A tiny droplet of orange
lands on my hand
as I sit reading in the shade

Looking up, expecting to see a bird closing its bomb doors
I see nothing but the blue
and the surrounding hug of the trees’ canopy

I reach down to the grass
to wipe away the perfect hit
and there this moment expands

A plump bumblebee belies gravity
by bouncing atop the grass
and for a brief spell inhabits my back pack

Beneath almost every tree
bluebells huddle and wave
as a solitary white butterfly says hello

There is a breeze of Mediterranean texture
yet thoroughly English in its philosophy
as blackbirds applaud the wood pigeon’s haiku

As the village clock strikes the hour
I notice there is more litter than last year
and more noise too

Over yonder, where I had planned to stroll
is becoming overrun by sunshine escapists
like a plague of flying ants

I’ll sit here a while longer and read
but first I’ll put aside my thoughts
and stroll to the café for a hot chocolate.

That, feeling

right in the pit
curling
a feather with boots and wings

that, feeling
of desire
of a need to compress

tremulous it starts
spreading
wings of springs and glorious things

that, feeling
of apprehension
of a call to unwind

such warmth
rising
calling and falling

that, feeling
of inhibition
of a flavour to inhale

and so release
into the wild
of the evening sky