Into the sudden dropping dusk

Into the sudden dropping dusk

Into the sudden dropping dusk

I raced on rush hour roads

anxious for route, east or west

weary and wanting home

fear like a drum, ta da rum, ta da rum

adrenalin overflowing.

Caught up in a car chase, rat race, lunacy

I hurtled, crossing lanes.

Then into the sudden dropping dusk

serene in a violet sky

silent and lovely, luminous, O!

Floated the breathless moon.

30th October 2012, Hounoux

Lupine, the wind

Lupine, the wind

Lupine, the wind is up today

wild, and wet from the sea

racing the clouds

roaring, loud

the pack has us held in siege

thunders  and thrums,  drums in the stack

rattles the doors and panes

howls to be in

the din the din

even the tall trees bending.

Conjured the wolves from fairy tales

circling ready to leap

a snap and a snarl beyond the cave

glimpsed in the firelight’s flicker.

A day to be glad for solid stone

for ancient thickness of walls

for comfort of home and shutters tied

while all of the world’s in a spin.

Lupine, the wind is up today

and I’m glad glad glad, to be in.

20th October 2012, Hounoux

Ice cube, sliding

Ice cube, sliding

That day began with, dear god!

Shocking gasp and green

plunge in the pool eighteen degrees and dropping

four lengths in, stately, become miraculously warm

and you and I in fluent chat

plus birds, a buzzard to your left?

Doves dainty dipping, pink feet

curled on the edge

then to market, landscape definitely crisping at the edges,

autumnal, though you talked of rust in the chestnuts

but also feathery fields, asparagus, waving

and one or two hectares of sunflowers,still zinging in full song.

Next to the lake, a picnic in the shade

and afterwards those scarlet dragonflies

with various Clouded Yellows on the flit and flutter.

At home another thirty lengths, soothing dip

before our rendezvous with a poet, quiet Irish tones 

in the still white clean white room

strange images, a black moon

and Robert Frost he gave me,

that ice cube, sliding on its own melt

who knew the genesis, the where from? Wither?

Watch in wonder

see the poem formed.

10th September, 2012, Hounoux, for Clare

(The poet was Matthew Sweeney. He told me that Robert Frost said a poem is a block of ice sliding on its own melt. Subsequently I read that RF also said ' Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words' )

I watched you glow

I watched you glow

You two talked of metalwork,

a language I did not know.

Whole sentences full of nuts and pipes

and something you called swage

clanked and clattered from your mouths

all over the dining table

whilst we sat silent, somewhat stunned

by mystical terms.

The magic between you sparked

soldering, welding, copper and lead

you made a connection,

lit up each other’s eyes.

Oh your delight!

The molten metal flowed

unstoppable

and, mesmerised,

I watched you glow.

September 10th 2012, Hounoux. For Jude who was there.

A ballet in the air

A ballet in the air

The pool is dappled, on the move

flickering in liquid dance,

lime and bottle, shades of green

all of the tree-tops too.

Bees and butterflies are buffeted, warm with the wind from the south,

the sea.

So, high in the sky two buzzards mew

and slow circle, wings wide on the thermals, lift and climb

sublime

a ballet in the air.

September 8th 2012, Hounoux, for Clare with love