30 August 2011 § 5 Comments
One for sorrow
A fan of piebald primaries
Woven through the rough grass of the headland.
Downed by the hawk
Then butchered by Reynard
Or so I thought.
Until I caught
A single feather’s blue-green sheen
Shining like oil on water,
The glint in the keeper’s eye.
One for sorrow. Hello, Magpie.
23 August 2011 § 13 Comments
The words I seek
Don’t live in my town
But out here,
Shining, sea-wet, in the sand
Flying in skeins
Resting on rocks
Or perched in trees
Half-seen out at sea
Or round sudden bends in the narrow cliff-path.
With the poacher’s patience
And fisherman’s finesse
I can catch them
Hold them for a moment
Before they wriggle free
Leaving only their warmth behind.
And a single juicy one in the bag
Is all it takes to feed me.
21 August 2011 § 9 Comments
Il fait du brouillard
The blinded lighthouse
Calls out in the gloom
Its foghorn telling the misty minutes
Like a doleful speaking clock.
There’s a Hebridean sting of salt
In the sea-smoke wrapped around the headland
Like a scarf; and the summer beaches
Are veiled and secret, empty, Arctic white.
The gulls and waders could tell me
Where I am; beneath the sky-cloak
They chatter heedless, brash and jeering,
Safe in their local knowledge.
Not that I’m asking. A dog, the dunes
And the distant booming of the surf
On the reefs far out are all the signs I need:
I am here. Now. And all is well.