Perspective

We’re all subjects of love
Subjects of fear and longing
living day by day
because – 
Smiling at the right people,
vibing the wrong.
Everyone sings their own song 
of their own love.

Fear and longing hide
in the inner parts.
I never wanted an ignorant melody
thickly articulated through a cloud of smoke,
tickling a beer glass
confused and stenching 
because-
We all learned some manners as children
and knew they were true,
waving our banners of politeness,
mine red, yours blue. 
Purple would be a royal colour
if we combined the two. 

You’re wrong.
I might be right
because-
all heads are “me” when they hit the pillow at night.

Imagining Nostalgia

I’ve been here before.
I’ve breathed this air.
Let it take 
as long 
as it is going to take
and breathe. 

I’ve tasted it before,
this air,
cinnamon and grass
ale pulled from the cask
old plasters pulled off at last
and broken scabs,
and there is salt and there is sugar
in my tears.

A giant circle,
each head laid on the next shoulder.
We are together.

Weather Hindcast

You are infinitely colourful,
Touching the ground in two places.
Sometimes more,
Sometimes less.
I welled up when I saw you
and climbed a mountain
– I couldn’t see you through the grey
but I was closer
You were with me
My brothers, the sheep,
Who knows how your colour,
Your beauty,
Touched their hearts,
if it lingers as it does in mine.
Rain and hail may erode, in time,
the rainbow at the back of my mind,
but they didn’t on that day and they haven’t since.

Yesterday the snow!
On the ground crunching like a good apple
Pasted on the trees like moss,
Painted upon each limb, some Bob Ross
Magic, white hill, white trees,
Pure sun, makes even the breeze glow!
Trees drop snow like the leaves
of last season, little by little,
and it falls to gently settle
in the back of my mind with you.

Warmth and colour,
the miracle of my summer,
Rest and play in the back of my mind
With the perfect winter’s day,
Never to melt or fade into grey.

Winter Begins

Winter begins to wrap her cool limbs around mine.
Age-old enchantress 
Stark and pure
Dressed all in blue, silver and white,
She opens the door on summer and slowly her presence fills the place.

The trees hold clawing fingers outstretched. 
Summer is slipping away.
It’s time to spread your emerald shawl on the ground; 
Lay a brown, orange and red carpet for our honoured guest. 

Age-old enchantress 
Stark and pure
She has opened the door on summer and slowly her presence is filling the place.

No Blind

There’s no blind on the skylight in my bathroom.
When I brush my teeth, 
do birds see me? 
What do they think?
They have no teeth.
They have no idea what’s going on.