Two worlds
We are walking.
We both see a dead rabbit in the road.
I exclaim and want to move it,
you step in first.
You step in
and kick it to the kerb,
I hurt.
You pick it up by the tale,
fingers protected in a plastic bag,
and let the dogs sniff it… Read more
When a child leaves home
Here are my boys,
walking away,
in their own world
of words I do not understand.
Where I used to lead,
I follow,
whistful, watching,
distanced from the world they march into.
Then the eldest carries on walking,
until he leaves home
and
I am left floating in rivers
crying,
empty
adrift
alone.… Read more
This is what
This is what death looks like:
small,
silent,
still.
Nothing remarkable.
No great fanfare of mourners,
no pagentry,
just a leaf of brown fur curled up in the soil.
This is what murder looks like:
charming,
engaging,
entertaining,
loveable,
fun.
Ignore the sharp eyed claws
and jaws,
the precise pounce,
the silent stealth
of unsuspected … Read more
Ringing the changes
When I turned 50 I wrote a blog about rings, about the stories they tell, about the bonds they weave.
I had 3 rings made from my wedding ring and my mum’s old gold when I got divorced. One ring for each son and one for me, with the intention that I would wear … Read more
I gather in
At last,
after the winter’s stone,
I gather mugwort from the village roads.
Feathered purple sage,
fresh mint,
lemon balm,
thyme’s purple flowers
and parsley’s drooping stars,
hang in my kitchen,
drying,
to save the scents of summer,
against the winter chills.
I gather the pearl-grey down
of cygnets
preening
on the dappled morning… Read more
Time has passed
The damson tree which has my back,
Used to be Zap,
My first and most beloved dog who walked,
through death and childbirth,
Loyally at my feet.
The soaring fir trees were neat eggs of topiary,
The lawn was a productive vegetable bed.
The shelves I clear
As I leave
22 years behind… Read more