Where once the serin

 Where once the serin 

Where once the serin perched to sing 

the sweetest high-pitched notes, 

canary song, 

his tree long moribund is axed, for safety first 

despite my special pleading 

for his spot, this destination 

the miracle of annual return 

bright tiny flyer 

navigating here from Africa. 

How many days and miles to our garden 

behind the washing line, close by the damson tree 

always the same bare branch 

the flash of yellow, sweet high song

and me, rejoicing 

for spring and his return.  

17th March 2024 Hounoux 

Mothers’ Day 2024 

In the cut-out squares, pinked, so unfrayed 

perfect

top left the sun at dawn 

gilding the layered land. 

Next the gift of tulips, purple, not yet languid 

a swarm of tiny bees, mimosa flowers 

then Lily’s memory of games we played 

tea party in the fig tree (hidden) 

Next row left to right, too-early blossom 

plum and almond, bridal white, 

Bee’s message to her mum, love letter 

my mum, laughing. 

Along the bottom, blessings 

peaceful hours, log fire, the satisfaction of squares 

complex pattern, dark and light 

friends loved and lost. 

Patchwork pieces, a one day, Sunday 

legacy of loveliness. 

March 11th 2024, Hounoux