on the turn

on the turn

i will go
down to the
beach to
watch the
rain breaking
in dimples on
the water
that green
grey water
running like
the cloud above
yet still as your
gaze upon it
a full tide
on the turn
unfolding out a
ruffle of shell
the lap
of it sunk
down no sooner
than risen
a talking in it

rain, a poem

rain, a poem

With acknowledgements to the pines, the rain, the mist, the green, the horse and the photographer, whoever that good soul shall be.

this morning’s
rain a poem
that talks of
home
steeped in
its known
edges bringing
it closer round
you even
the norfolk pines
on the ridge
you sight from
that kitchen window
are old pieces on
the mantelpiece
more memory than

pleiades and town

pleiades and town
december 13, 2015
‘It should have been another
small town lit up late
I mistook for the Pleiades’
from ‘Weatherwoman and the Pleiades’ by Sam Hunt

With acknowledgements to the Grey District Council for use of this image

the bard and songster
he pointed out to me
that any little country town
at night and seen afar
might be taken for a
low flung constellation
below the ridge the stars
of it streets apart and hardly
enough to hold a gleam
across one to the other
he said that if we say
such a town of fragile
twinkle is truly of the sky