Saturday, 19 June 2010

Early Spring morning

It’s time to be up and calling;
not to break a glass, or chandelier,
or en-trance with a witty lyric
but to find a different way in the dark
- because, for now, for birds, that sun’s a spark.

Outside, open beaks dominate: although, sssshhhhh,
I can almost eavesdrop growing
grass like Walt Whitman - exultant!
Mighty flowers and foliage rattle
and, under leaves, the eggs of insects settle.

There! Shall we go underleaf
and wait as patiently as mother
for their battle-out of casement:
leaving giant birds to whistle, croak and shout
while we listen-in for pillars breaking out.

Thursday, 17 June 2010


Once upon a time, a miracle
waits. A man will drive his new coupé along,
hand-wave at yesterday’s gearstick,
taking a longer way home

when faith jumps onto the road
in the form of a vixen and fluffy cub.
He stops, stock-still in evening sun,
grinning as foxes parade.

Then - because he sees them - a miracle opens
a chamber from way-back; when
Mum left the house with her soft, wild
eyes. Tears for the name of a child

and this feel for his children is real, wet, deep
and his heart, an old hare, looks - and leaps.

Wednesday, 16 June 2010

Morning has broken

Today, fresh air
frees up a tweet of birds
from their shadows
on trees and roof and wire.
No cage but rain
and sun. My face turns
to unsolvable
puzzles - using brain
or a kiss
or small hands seemingly frail
and alive,
reaching, soaking, sunlit.

Tuesday, 15 June 2010

Selfish gene

By and large
my children seized
a certain 'form' from me

but what's in charge?

- A sideways grin,
a run that seems
like Mr. Bean
and freckly skin -

Me, their Dad
can hope these lads
grow branches, forge
beyond a stem
by (being them)
and large.

Monday, 14 June 2010

on a train,

the engine vibrates
its hammering pistons; rain
hits carriage windows.

Sunday, 13 June 2010

Lullaby for Andrew

Go to sleep my baby
close your little eyes
round your bed a hundred colours
point towards surprise.

Darling Andrew, smiling,
take a little rest,
before tomorrow’s reckoning
of chaos at its best.

Mess and muddle, mayhem,
a smile beyond the glum;
intensity, intensity,
sleep now, let it come….