All of the days

Round in a circle, turn and turn
all of the days are strung
lovely as lights, the dark, the bright
here's where the living's done
ours to be treasured 
savoured, loved
even the every, mundane
measure the sand and feel its slip
where sits the sun in the sky?
Choice of the poet
reluctant or bold?
Day after day the what the how
writing a life we choose.


April 1st 2014, Hounoux

If wine is bottled poetry

If wine is bottled poetry
frost on the vine, bare earth
pruners, frozen-fingered
wild garlic's white lace trails
poppies, bumble bees
first grapes sun
swelling, scissors
bucket barrel vat
crush and squeeze
love and expertise
and in the end, Keat's beaded bubbles
winking at the brim
the warm south  
bottled
if wine is poetry

March 22nd 2014,  Gloucester to Exeter train 

Four for the box

Four for the box then
magical
priceless, offered free
one at the doorway, full-beam bright
a hug as high as his reach
another all bones, for Halloween
skeleton hand in mine
and then the youngest, quizzical
an eye-brow questioning her mum
before the crinkled nose and smile, slowly
as recognition dawns.

Only the oldest has the words
Love you granny, daily, her hello
goodbye
future-proof and stowed
never to lose their shine
four for the box, safe-keeping
memories, magical

1st April 2014, Hounoux, for Lily, Luca, Zach and Betty.